


Let's Break the Ice

by MayvinFreewood



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Brief Mention of Blood, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Freeform, Humor, Kidnapping, M/M, Mavin, Minor Violence, On Hiatus, Probably just fluff, Slow Updates, but it wasnt intentional, cliffhangers galore, denial about sexuality, i dont even know what im doing anymore, idk yet, minor injury, ok the angst was intentional i lied, sometimes it doesnt, sometimes it makes sense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 38,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayvinFreewood/pseuds/MayvinFreewood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We’ll send you a letter when you get a match. They said. Most people have theirs by the time they’re five years old. They said. Michael was almost eighteen now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **14 Feb 2015**  
> This is being put on hiatus...I have no way of knowing when...or if...it will be continued. Some things aren't going so well, and as much as it pains me to do this I have to put this on the back-burner until other things get smoothed over. Thank you all for having stuck with it for this long, I hope we'll see the conclusion some day.   
> Much love xx

_“Would you like to run the ICE breaker test now, Mr and Mrs Jones?” queried a nurse, antiseptic dripping from her voice._

_“If you would,” Mr Jones replied, as if he had any choice. Failure to comply to the ICE breaker test would result in his newly born son being turned over to the government, as it meant he was unfit to be a father._

_“Splendid!” cried the nurse, her voice too cheery; too rehearsed. Quickly she took a blood sample from the infant, smiling apologetically at Mrs Jones who flinched as the needle entered her son’s arm._

_“It should only take a few minutes!” she pressed the small tube into a machine which then whirred to life with colours and numbers that meant nothing to the couple. The nurse drummed her fingers happily on the edge of the monitor, awaiting the results._

_One minute passed._

_Then two._

_Then four._

_Mrs Jones rocked her son in her arms as Mr Jones chewed the inside of his mouth nervously. He had heard of the programme being unable to complete, but never would he have guessed it would happen to his first born son._

_Error: Match Not Found._

_“Ah, well,” the nurse chuckled lightly. It was obvious she hadn’t encountered the error before, “Well, it would appear your dear Michael doesn’t have a match yet! But fret not, it happens all the time, I assure you!” Those words weren’t hers; they were straight from a nurse’s handbook—“What to Say When Things Go Awry”.  
Due to an influx of hormones and the stress of watching the numbers tick by mechanically, Mrs Jones broke down into tears, holding her dear son close as her husband comforted her to the best of his abilities. _

ICE breaker; intermolecular compatibility exam. A test issued to match you with your “soul mate” via DNA analysis and other unreleased factors. When the company created it, it had been completely optional, like signing up on a dating website. But as time progressed and millions of dollars began to come in, the government took it over. Now it was completely mandatory and issued at birth. The procedure involved a series of unique tattoos placed on the four middle knuckles of both hands. They were in a shimmery blue ink that, somehow, maintained clarity and size as the person aged. They never faded, never shrunk. They were always there; always reminded the person that their soul mate was out there with matching tattoos. Someday they would meet and join their hands in the advertised fashion and discover they matched up perfectly, creating an intricate design where their fingers touched. 

They not only gave people hope, but they gave everyone a reason to talk to random strangers. But not Michael Jones. Michael Jones never got a match. _We’ll send you a letter when you get a match._ They said. _Most people have theirs by the time they’re five years old._ They said. Michael was almost eighteen now.

But no, instead those stupid symbols were Michael’s reason for fidgeting in his fourth hour class. His reason for being teased his whole life. The reason he hated his life. He would never openly admit it though, for his mother’s sake if anything. Instead, he cleverly disguised it as ruthless rage and teenage delinquency. Instead of medications, he had violent video games. Instead of being sent to a therapist, he would be sent to detention. Letting his parents believe he was just a troubled teen was preferable to them believing he had a chemical imbalance that would require a lifetime of medication. Or at least he thought so.

“Michael, if you would, please give the class the answer to number forty-seven,” a voice interrupted the swirl of thoughts he found himself so often encased in. It was Mr Burns, his chemistry teacher. He hated chemistry—especially since he was always chosen to be the guinea pig for new experiments. All of which he made a complete ass of himself because he wasn’t one for reading instructions. 

“Oxygen,” Michael didn’t bother looking up from his hands, which he had apparently been drawing on as he thought. The tattoos on his knuckles looked more like video game characters now than they did the intricate designs the government had decided he needed.

“Trick question, we’re on number twelve. Now if you’d be so kind as to pay attention,” snapped Mr Burns—who equally disliked Michael. He told the delinquent’s parents that he was full of potential, if he would just apply himself. Typical teacher response. Michael just grumbled and continued filling in the doodles on his knuckles. 

Finally, the class came to an end. Michael was the first to leave—mainly because he didn’t have anything to pack up, as he hadn’t unpacked in the first place. Though today, Mr Burns attempted to stop him, “Michael I’d like a word with you,” but was quickly dismissed by the fed up redhead.

“Yeah, yeah. I have potential, need to apply myself. Yadda yadda yadda. Save your breath, teach,” he shrugged his backpack over his shoulder and slumped towards the door.  
“Michael, if you’d wait a second,” an exhausted and defeated sigh escaped the teacher’s lips as he reached into his desk for a sheet of paper, “I noticed all the drawing you do and was wondering if you’d be interested in an Art Academy referral.”

Michael stopped and turned slowly, feeling a bit guilty at how rude he was to Mr Burns and yet the man still treated him with humility.

“I-you have? I mean…I guess,” he shifted his weight uncomfortably before walking up to the desk to examine the sheet extended to him.

_Taimire Academy of the Arts._

He wasn’t even sure how to pronounce it, but it looked promising. Then something clicked in his brain and he snapped his attention to Mr Burns, “If this is some kind of joke you can shove it up your—“

“Michael!”

“Seriously, is this for real? Because if it isn’t, I swear to God,” Michael pursed his lips then read over the referral again. 

“It’s real, I keep the slips for…emergencies,” Mr Burns shrugged and seemed a bit embarrassed that he would care for the angry boy that never paid attention during his lessons.

“Then hell yeah, I’ll take it,” Michael smiled for the first time that day, then noticed the address. It was half-way across the country.

“It’s in Texas?” he croaked, feeling his dreams smacking repeatedly into the wall like a confused bird.

“I’ll put in a good word with your parents; maybe they’ll be willing to relocate?” Mr Burns shrugged, “Just…give it some thought. You’ve got poten—…you’d do well there.”

Michael nodded his thanks and folded the slip carefully before slipping it into his pocket. His day progressively improved, thanks to the slim ball of sunshine he held in his pocket. It was his ticket out of his hellhole—a way to move and start over, to be the new kid. To get the fuck out of New Jersey.

He didn’t bother attending the rest of his classes for the day; instead he wandered the halls with the fake hall pass he had accurately recreated.


	2. Chapter 2

He practically ran home that evening after school, the referral in his pocket nearly burning a hole in his pocket. His obvious happiness concerned his mother, who addressed him with one hand on her hip, “Alright, what happened?”

“I got a referral!” Michael squealed, then realised he had come home with referrals before, “I mean, a good one! Mr Burns gave me an art academy referral,” he scrambled to unfold the paper before handing it to his mother.

“Michael! This is in Texas! You do realise that is nowhere near here, right?” she asked in a joking tone, attempting to keep his newly found happiness in place.  
“Yeah…but I mean…it’s…” he hadn’t thought this part through, he had been too busy visualising what life might be like in Texas. 

His mother couldn’t resist seeing him smile so much for the first time since he was three, “I’ll talk to your father,” she smiled warmly and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Michael had such high prospects for what was to come, he even helped with dinner. It was around the dinner table that the tension began to rise again.

“So, Michael brought home an art academy referral today…” his mother began, not glancing up from her plate.

“Okay…?” Mr Jones quirked an eyebrow in his direction, wondering where this could possibly be heading.

“It’s in Texas. Austin, Texas,” she finally looked up to gauge his reaction.

“What? No. Absolutely not,” he furrowed his brow.

“Dad!” Michael exclaimed.

“There’s no way we can afford to just drop everything and move to Texas because you refuse to pay attention in school!” his father boomed, making the decision final. Michael slammed his fork onto his plate and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, having learned not to argue with his father.

“Honey… Michael’s almost 18—he could go on his own, you know,” his mother said quietly, almost too soft to hear. 

“He can’t even drive yet!"

“I can learn!” 

“And who is going to teach you?”

“I’ll teach myself!”

“And when do you plan on doing that?”

“Just let me borrow the car—” Michael’s eyes began to light up, as the possibility was coming closer to reality once again.

“Enough! If you want to go so bad, I’ll teach you. But you’re going to have to work on that attitude of yours if we’re going to let you go off on your own,” Mr Jones sighed heavily and pushed his plate towards the centre of the table, having lost a majority of his appetite now.

“First things first, you’re going to finish this semester. I want to see improvement in your grades before this decision is final. We’ll start on your driving this Thursday,” the grin that was growing on Michael’s face was too much for his father to stay frustrated with. It had been too long since his boy had truly smiled without a nudge in the ribs.

Michael, having lost his appetite as well, grabbed his backpack from its discarded position on the rug and began to bound up to his room, prepared to study his ass off.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a loud thump followed by the most dramatic sigh Mrs Jones had ever heard. Carefully she climbed the stairs to her son’s room to peek in. What she found was an utter disaster. Notebooks were scattered across the floor, loose sheets of paper decorated the spaces in between those and smack dab in the centre was a frustrated seventeen year old boy who had his curls tangled in his fingers. “God dammit!”

“Michael, honey?”

Michael quickly looked up, “Studying is bullshit!” and dropped his head onto the floor with another loud thump. His mom chuckled lightly and entered the room, picking up sheets of paper as she went.

“Which subject are you working on?”

“All of them.” Michael grumbled with his face buried in the carpet.

“Well, maybe you should focus on just one at a time…” she laid the stack of papers next to an English book, which she then realised consisted of nothing but well done doodles instead of actual homework. 

“You’ve still got two months before the end of the semester, there’s plenty of time to make improvements,” she gently patted his back.

Michael flopped onto his back to stare at the ceiling and rubbed his hands over his face, “What am I supposed to do if I can’t get my grades up?”

“Don’t think like that. You can do this. If you want to go to that academy badly enough, you’ll force yourself through it,” she smiled warmly, even if he couldn’t see it, he could feel it.   
“Are you sure you’re okay with me going?” he asked, rolling onto his side.

“I want you to be happy; and if you can’t be happy unless you’re 800 miles away, then so be it,” she patted his curls and stood up, careful not to step on his doodles.

“Hey mom? Thanks,” he returned her smile and cracked open his chemistry book--which he immediately regretted, as foreign symbols and calculations covered the pages. His mother quietly left the room just in time to hear another frustrated groan and the thump of a head against a book.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Michael decided he would actually catch the bus to school so that he could do some last minute studying for his first hour class. He hadn’t taken the bus to school since third grade and was quickly reminded why.

“Hey, it’s Mateless Michael!”

“Hey Michael, did you get your letter yet?”

_Crack!_

Michael’s fist met the jaw of the nearest loud mouth kid, which quickly shut him up, but resulted in the screaming of the rest of the bus. He was nearly thrown from his seat as the driver swerved onto the kerb and spun around like a bat out of hell. She ordered him off the bus while she barked into her walky talky about needing another bus to pick up a rough-houser.

As he sat in the principal’s office awaiting his punishment, he continued to study. Quite the image of contradiction to anyone that walked by. The office assistant interrupted his train of thought with the sound of a detention slip being torn from its carbon copy.

“You know where to go, Michael,” she sighed. He was on first-name basis with most of the disciplinary staff, as he was there at least once a week. Muttering under his breath, he took the slip and made his way down to the detention room. He had spent more time in this classroom than in any other combined. He even had his own desk in the corner.

“Back again, are we, Mr Jones?” the detention attendant stamped his slip and pointed towards his desk. Michael smiled discreetly as he saw the stack of new paper shoved in the underneath compartment. Despite his bad reputation as a terrible student, most of the staff actually liked him and were incredibly impressed by his artistic abilities. The detention attendant, Mr Sorola, made a deal with him once he realised how frequent Michael was in his care: if he drew him something, he would “lose” one of his designated assignments for the day. 

This early in the day, Michael was the only one in the room. He took the opportunity to chat with Mr Sorola about his referral and explain his situation. Slowly the room began to fill up and Michael was forced to return to his corner. He apologised ahead of time, as he would actually be working today and may not get a drawing done every day. Mr Sorola only laughed as he commended the boy for his intentions of working so hard.

The rest of the day went by quietly as other students filed in and out of the room, only having temporary detention. By noon, however, Michael had completed two assignments and was ready to fling his textbook out the window. He had never studied so hard in his life, and it was doing a toll on his brain: it wasn’t used to this sort of abuse. Just as he was about to give up, he saw the academy referral sticking out of his chemistry book, as if it were his own personal cheerleader. He sighed and soldiered on. 

The only break he allowed himself was during lunch, which he used to draw and recuperate. By the end of the day, he was mentally exhausted. So much that he even considered riding the bus again, but then remembered he hadn’t been reassigned one since his outburst that morning had earned him a place on the driver’s ban list. 

Waiting for him at home was a relatively disgruntled father, who was drumming his fingers impatiently over the back of his phone. Apparently the principal still bothered to alert them of Michael’s misbehaviour. 

“Still getting into fights, are you?” the older Mr Jones said, pushing the door open for his son.

“Yeah, because everyone still talks shit about me,” Michael grumbled, throwing his backpack on the floor.

“Watch your mouth around your mother,” Michael smiled apologetically to his mom who was stirring up dinner. His foul mouth never bothered her, but his dad didn’t know that.

“So are we going to talk about this, or are you giving up on the academy?” 

“What? No! Dad, they aren’t going to stop talking sh-…crap about me just because I’m trying to get my grades up,” Michael was trying to maintain his anger at his father’s accusations.

“You never take the bus anyway, why today?” his father crossed his arms and stared Michael down.

“Because I wanted some extra time to cram for my first hour test…” Michael couldn’t believe those words just came out of his mouth and weren’t a profuse lie. They caused his parents to chuckle at the irony, lightening the atmosphere a bit. 

“So you knocked a kid out because you wanted to study?” 

“Yeah…as stupid as it sounds. But I got a 70 on the test, so…” Michael shifted his glance from the floor to his father, who was smirking at him.

“I guess I’ll let you go this time,”

“Like every other time before, you mean,”

“Michael…”

“Sorry,” Michael laughed and snuck by his mother to gaze into the pot she was stirring, remembering he hadn’t eaten lunch.


	5. Chapter 5

“Are you ready to start driving yet?” Michael’s father asked after school that Thursday. It had only been two days since their initial plan to start, but it had completely slipped the boy’s mind; apparently his brain assumed he was walking there.

“Hell yeah!” he grabbed for the keys off the hook, but was stopped.

“Hold up, hotshot. I’ve gotta make sure I can trust you with the car,” his dad swiped the keys, “You know which side of the road to drive on, where the ignition is, and that the gas is on the right?”

Michael nodded animatedly, “I drive on the sidewalk, right?” he laughed as he was handed the keys.

He turned out to be a surprisingly good driver, which he attributed to all the video games he played. But his dad insisted he inherited his good driving genes.

“So, can we get out on the highway yet?” Michael asked, drumming his hands excitedly on the steering wheel.

“Baby steps, son. We’ll get there,” his son’s enthusiasm continued to bring a smile to his face.

Michael groaned and backed the car into the driveway—they hadn’t even left the neighbourhood yet, and Michael wasn’t exactly known for his patience. If his trip to Texas wasn’t on the line, he would have considered practicing while his parents were sleeping.

__

  
The next few months followed a dreary methodical pace: wake up, go to school, come home, study, practice driving. It was enough to nearly drive Michael to his breaking point. But his newly acquired driver’s license (good bye walking, hello student parking) kept him going, as his dream was close to becoming a reality.

  
Michael’s attitude had also changed quite a bit lately, Mr Burns in particular noticed. He was much quieter and more attentive to lecture, which concerned him a bit. He was fond of Michael’s wildfire personality. So one day after class he pulled him aside to talk about the academy.

“You’ve been awful quiet these last few months,” he began, and Michael just started laughing.

“Leave it to you to be concerned when I’m not talking enough!”

“It just isn’t like you,” Mr Burns chuckled.

“I’m not depressed or different, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m just trying to get my damn grades up so my parents will believe I’m ready to move off to Texas on my own,” he shrugged.

“On your own? They aren’t going with you?”

“Nah, they don’t want to move. They like it here. I’ll be leaving in two weeks!” Michael’s excitement was dampened by the almost sad look on Mr Burns’ face, “Come on, old man. Don’t go getting soft on me. If it weren’t for you I’d have probably dropped out! You said yourself I’d do well there,” Michael felt like he was throwing excuse after excuse at his teacher, trying to get the sorrowful look off his face.

“You will. Doesn’t make it any easier to see you go, though,”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve just enjoyed having you in class. Even if you are…were…a loud, angry nuisance,” the teacher laughed, glancing at the clock, “You’d better get going before you’re late. Make sure you visit before you leave for Texas.” Michael nodded and shifted his backpack before making his way to his next class.

Michael would forget to visit Mr Burns on the day he was to leave for Texas. He didn’t even attend school that day. He excitedly grabbed all the bags he could find to pack with, as he didn’t own a suitcase.

“Michael, honey, don’t you have friends you’d like to say goodbye to?” His mother asked softly, trying to hide her fear in the bundle of laundry she was preparing for him. Michael dropped what he was doing as he realised something: he had lived in New Jersey his whole life and he had never made a single friend worth keeping. Everyone was too afraid of him, with good reason he decided. He also decided he would try to change that once he got to Texas. New life, new start.

“Nah mom, I already told them bye,” he felt bad lying to her, but she gave a gentle smile and patted a pile of freshly folded t-shirts. He saw her eyes water slightly, “Mom…” he said, feeling the guilt he had been keeping at bay for two months wash over him. Before he could continue, his father showed up with a small cardboard box. He laid it on the bed in front of Michael then turned to his wife, “Oh, one more thing I forgot; there’s a new phone for him downstairs, can you go grab it for me, hun?” he smiled and pecked her on the cheek.

“What’s all this?” Michael opened the box to find an envelope of cash, a plane ticket and…a box of condoms? “Dad!” he almost whined, a bit embarrassed as he shoved the box deep into his backpack.

“Hey, I’ve heard those Southern gals are pretty good lookin’,” he smirked and elbowed his son in the ribs, “Or guys; never could figure you out.”

“DAAAAD!” Michael groaned, shoving his father playfully.

“There should be enough cash in there to pay for a month’s worth of rent at a cheap apartment; I suggest you get yourself a job as soon as you can. There’s enough for a rental car if you’re careful with what you spend. It’s some of your college fund, so you better work your ass off!” he clapped his son on the shoulder, leaving an image of the two of them that could have easily been used on a Hallmark card.

His mother soon came up the stairs, fiddling with the phone she had been sent to retrieve, muttering about how it was far too complicated to be a phone.

“And this is to keep in touch, which I expect you to do,” Michael flipped the phone over in his hand, feeling a bit odd having it, as he didn’t exactly have any need for a phone as fancy as this one. It had video functionality, multiple person calling, hologram projection for his favourite shows, and thousands of downloadable apps he would probably never use. The case was his favourite part, though, as it featured some of his favourite drawings.

“How did you find these?” he asked, watching the image change when he tapped a small button on the corner.

“Thank your mother for being a good art critic and being able to tell which ones you enjoyed the most,” Mrs Jones just smiled.

“Well, it’s almost that time; your plane leaves in an hour,” the twinge of sadness now decorated the faces of both Michael’s parents. Michael grabbed them both in a tight hug, thanking them repeatedly as he tried to keep his emotions in tow. He had never left Jersey—he was sad and excited. He had never been on a plane—he was a bit terrified. He didn’t know anyone in Texas—he was feeling a bit lonely.

“Alright, let’s go!” he feigned excitement, hopefully in a convincing way.

“I’ll drive you there, just for old times’ sake,” said his father, pulling the keys from his jacket pocket. As they began to leave, Michael turned around to peer into his now bare room and say a silent goodbye, feeling like he was in a cliché teen movie.

Michael quickly kissed his mother on the cheek, careful not to dwindle, as she looked like she was on the verge of talking him out of his trip. Then Michael and his father piled his belongings into the car (which was surprisingly only three bags) and set off for the airport while Michael waited for the inspirational movie soundtrack to play on behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop! Hope you're enjoying it thus far. Again, sorry for the crazy length differences.  
> Thank all of you viewers and kudos-leavers! <3


	6. Chapter 6

As they neared the airport, Michael felt his stomach begin to knot. This was the moment he had been waiting two months for. 

“You alright?” his father asked, breaking the silence that had loomed over them for the duration of the trip. Neither of them knew what to say, which was unusual for Michael.

“What? Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat, feeling it tighten, “Yeah just uh, damn. This place is huge,” he leaned forward to gaze out the windshield, the towering building coming into view.

“Wait ‘til you see the planes,” his father smiled weakly.

They suffered a few more moments of silence before Michael forced himself out of the vehicle. His hesitance to leave confused him, because he was thinking the complete opposite of reluctant. He was prepared to hop in the cockpit and fly himself to Texas, if the need arose. 

“Call us when you land,” his father called from the driver’s seat, his knuckles white around the steering wheel.

“Alright–don’t miss me too much,” Michael said trying to lighten the mood, but the look on his father’s face made him swallow hard. He pressed his lips into a thin line and retrieved his bags from the backseat. As he walked away, he turned around to wave but regretted it—his father looked even more pained, apparently not expecting his son to turn back around. 

“Fucking hell,” Michael muttered under his breath, hoisting his backpack further onto his shoulder.

The terminal was a complete mess of people—couples preparing for vacation flights, parents crying as their child prepared to board a plane, visitors that were completely lost. Thanks to his light baggage, he was able to manoeuver through webs of people without much trouble (at least as far as he was concerned; the people he hit in the sides with his backpack were another story). 

Finally, after verifying his ticket and being directed in the right direction, he was Texas bound. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long before he heard his flight announced on the system, which caused a wave of antsy people to flood towards the doors. Nervousness began to creep into his gut once again as he made it out, stopping in his tracks as he stared up at the enormous aircraft that was parked before him. 

It was easily twice as tall as the airport, and at least three times as long. Its steely-grey colour nearly blended in with the sky above, and dozens of lights decorated the undercarriage in the form of constellations and other star patterns. Michael wondered how many constellations he had seen that had actually been airplanes. 

As he was standing awe-struck, someone ran forcefully into his back, knocking him out of his trance and immediately igniting his anger, “Hey asshole, watch where the fuck you’re going.” He was then greeted with a middle finger as a tired looking man pushed past him to board the plane.

Michael was about to shout after them, then noticed two security drones focussing on him, making him reconsider. He wasn’t about to get kicked off the plane before he had even boarded. Grumbling his defeat, he trudged into the boarding line.

The interior of the plane was even more impressive than the exterior, which was quite phenomenal. The seats were all covered in midnight blue velvet that shimmered in the light as if it were made of the night sky itself. Apparently that was a theme this airliner had going—becoming the sky as you flew through it at amazing speeds. Checking his ticket, he easily found his seat without the help of the assisting robot that was already being bombarded with questions about the flight. 

He smiled as he found himself with a window seat, meaning he could watch with satisfaction as New Jersey slowly fell behind them. After lugging his few bags into the over-head compartment, he retrieved his headphones and out-dated iPod (nearly six years behind the current model, but he couldn’t be bothered with replacing it every six months as new models were developed). It was when he went to put his headphones on that he realised his hands were trembling violently—from nerves or excitement, he couldn’t pinpoint. 

“High anxiety levels: detected. Would you like assistance?” an electronic voice made itself known, startling Michael to the point of yanking his headphones from his ears.

“W-what?” Michael leaned up and looked around him, wondering where the voice was coming from.

“Would you like assistance?” the voice repeated, seeming to come from all around him.

“N-no. What the fuck?” he was still scrambling to find the voice, mainly so he could deactivate it. Having the rest of the plane know he was anxious wasn’t preferable. 

“Please remain calm, Michael Jones,” 

“How are you- what are… how did you..?” he glanced around him to see if anyone else was, well, hearing voices from seemingly nowhere. To his relief, he saw multiple people talking to thin air and reclined in his seat. Maybe it understood commands?

“What are you?” Michael queried, hoping he didn’t sound like a complete idiot.

“AERO; automated emotional response output. AERO is designed to provide a more enjoyable flight by detecting emotional changes and providing proper care.”  
Michael quirked an eyebrow at this and resumed his scan around him to determine how a programme could possibly know how he was feeling.

“The sensors located in your current seat measure multiple variables including, but not limited to: blood pressure, body temperature, rate of breathing and heart rate.”

Michael sighed. As if being miles above the ground weren’t stressful enough, he would know have a robot monitoring his emotions via his asscheeks. 

“Can I disable you?” Michael asked flatly, taking his chances.

“Please contact an in-flight drone for options on temporarily disabling AERO.”

The New Jerseyan groaned and sunk further in his seat. He wasn’t particularly fond of communicating with drones, as they never completely understood his queries which, more often than not, resulted in a one-sided screaming match between the redhead and an emotionless machine.

“You seem to be frustrated, Michael Jones. Would you like assistance?” the monotone voice didn’t miss a beat.

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael rubbed his hands across his face.

“Please contact an in-flight drone for options on temporarily disabling AERO.”

This was going to be an incredibly long flight.


	7. Chapter 7

“Disable AERO,” Michael said for the third time.

“Please repeat your request,” he was pretty sure drones all got the memo to fuck with Michael Jones every chance they got.

“Fucking disable AERO you piece of shit!” Michael clawed at the armrests of his seat, thankful he had somehow avoided acquiring a neighbour.

“Michael Jones, you seem upset. Would you like assistance?” AERO asked for the millionth time. 

“If you don’t fucking disable this stupid thing I’m going to turn you into an alarm clock!” Michael was becoming shrill now. He had only been on the flight for ten minutes—only one hour and forty minutes to go.

“Please repeat your request,”

“That’s it!” Michael went to grab for the drone, which quickly scooted out of the way as someone made its way down the aisle.

“Get back here, you prick!”

“Woah, dude. Having issues with the drones?” Michael looked up to see a man standing near his seat, obviously trying not to bust into hysterical laughter.

“Michael Jones, you seem upset. Would you like assistance?” called AERO once again.

“SHUT UP! I’M PERFECTLY FINE!” the redness in his face was growing, as was the angry vein in his neck.

“Disable AERO, seat G38,” said the man in the aisle.

“Request confirmed: disabling AERO for seat G38,” the drone remained near Michael’s row, awaiting further commands.

“Dismissed,” said the man once again, and the drone hovered off to its docking station.

“How did you…I fucking said that!” he flopped back in his seat, crossing his arms like a toddler.

“They aren’t as smart as you’d think,” said the man, who made himself comfortable in the vacant seat next to the fuming toddler, “I’m Ray, by the way. Or X-Ray,” he said, flipping a satiny cape out from under him.

“X-Ray? What are you, some kind of superhero then? You’re sure as hell a drone whisperer,” Michael couldn’t believe how weird this flight had already become.

“Something like that. It’s amazing how fast people move when a madman comes running through wearing tights and a cape,” Ray grinned, obviously proud of himself.

“Right,” Michael was feeling a bit uncomfortable sitting next to this weirdo, “Well uh, I’m Michael,” he didn’t offer his hand in greeting for fear of one of those old-fashioned buzzers being attached to Ray’s palm. He just seemed like the type.

“I kind of figured that. I think the whole friggin’ plane knows your name by now,” Ray laughed and slid his ticket through a mechanism in the back of the seat, “Mind if I sit here? Good.” 

“You can do that?” Michael felt around for his ticket, considering moving himself. This guy might be more annoying that AERO.

“I have no idea. But, you know, yolo. What are they going to do, ask me to repeat myself to death?” the dark-haired man grinned and stood up, “Let me grab my bags,” he turned, his black cape swirling behind him. 

“Good god…” Michael laughed, holding his head in his hands. Was he really going to be stuck with this weirdo for an hour and a half? 

Ray returned with two decently sized bags and lugged them into the overhead compartment, enveloping Michael in his cape. “Do you _have_ to wear that thing?” he asked, attempting to wrap it around the man’s slim figure. 

“Nope,” Ray said, sitting back down, but not removing it. He was holding a small chip and two controllers in each hand. “Watch this,” he handed Michael a controller and hit a button on the side of his seat, “hit the switch on your seat too.” Michael did as he was told as he watched a six inch screen appear in front of Ray, soon followed by another in front of him. Ray slid the two together with a snap, and they became one elongated screen. From there he clicked the chip into the side and leaned back, “So, what do you wanna play?” a smug grin fell across his face. 

Michael leaned forward with interest, “What is it?” he clasped the foreign controller—he had played plenty of video games, but he had never seen this system. Then it dawned on him, “Is this the fucking Xbox Infinity?” 

Ray nodded animatedly, “You bet your ass it is!” then hit another series of buttons (seriously, how many buttons did this plane have?) and a quick _shoomp! Clunk!_ Was heard, then complete silence apart from the subtle music playing on the Xbox’s home screen.

“What was that?” Michael looked around him, noticing the surrounding passengers were talking but no sound was coming out.

“Noise cancelling shield—you don’t fly often, do you?” 

“First time,”

“Ah right, I should have known from the screaming match you tried to have with the drones,” 

“Right; so I guess you’re going to Texas, too?” Michael quickly made himself a profile on the Xbox as they initiated a co-op game.

“Shit, is that where this is going? Well, I guess I am now,” they both laughed, Michael feeling a bit more comfortable with this guy—the first pleasant person he’d met in years.

Maybe this flight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy, it's Ray, bitches! We'll get to Texas soon, honest. I'm just stupidly thorough.


	8. Chapter 8

Michael discovered that Ray was really good at video games. Like, ridiculously good. Of all the matches the two of them played (Michael quickly lost count) he had won only three. Two of them, Ray decided, were practice rounds and didn’t count.

“Bullshit! I fucking beat your ass!” Michael shrieked—had it not been for the noise cancelling barrier, the entire plane probably would have believed they were being brutally attacked. They had just spent an entire round strictly melee fighting, and somehow Ray had managed to dodge all of Michael’s power attacks.

“Michael Jones, we are approaching your destination,” AERO chimed, having graciously remained silent the entire time. It startled Michael once again, as he had practically forgotten about it.

“Who the hell said you could come back on?”

“Michael Jones, you seem upset. Would you like assistance?” 

“Not this shit again, I fucking swear,” Michael was about to pound the controller into the nearest electronic console, but was interrupted by Ray’s quick laughter which had become incredibly contagious during the last hour and a half. 

“Shut the fuck up, Ray! It’s not funny,” but Michael was laughing along and managed to get AERO to disable on his own, which was incredibly convenient, since he was literally five minutes away from never speaking to the stupid thing again.

As the plane landed, Ray disabled the shield and suddenly they were assaulted by the roaring chatter of nearby passengers. They both grimaced and awaiting further instruction for landing.

“So, have you ever been to Texas?” Michael asked, handing Ray his bags.

“Oh, yeah, man. I live here,” Ray smiled proudly as they both exited the airport. “I’ve got an apartment near Austin, if you need a place to crash for the night. It’s kind of hard to land one the same day you apply,” Ray threw his hand out to hail a taxi. Three of them passed by without even bothering to stop, causing Michael to curse the drivers under his breath. Finally one pulled up and Michael stopped in his tracks—there wasn’t a driver in the driver’s seat.

“Uhh…Ray?” he questioned from the curb, nodding uneasily in the direction of the empty seat. 

Ray just laughed, “You must have not visited many big cities back in Jersey, right?” Michael nodded, “We’ve got cities, just not ghost cabbies,” Michael slowly climbed in the backseat and the door automatically shut behind him. The clicking of the locks startled him and he rattled the handle, feeling a bit trapped.

“It’s completely safe. Well, unless there’s a power failure, then we’ll probably die,” Ray’s face turned serious, then immediately resumed its playful nature, “Chill out man, they’re solar powered during the day,” Michael stopped rattling the door handle as Ray slipped a transport card through a slot and told the vehicle the address. 

“Doesn’t it get weird constantly talking to nothing?” Michael tapped curiously on different parts of the car, wondering if it would respond the same way AERO had.

“When you’ve done it all your life, you don’t really think about it,” Ray shrugged, “It’s pretty convenient, since I’m shit at talking to actual people.”

“You didn’t have a problem talking to me,” Michael quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah…that kind of just, you know. You didn’t seem like everyone else on the plane,”

“Sounds like something out of a fucking chick flick, man,” Michael laughed, “Next you’ll be trying to hold my hand and take me out to dinner.”

“Well, now that you mention it; Michael you’re my one true love, just look at our tattoos!” Ray exclaimed, holding his hand out dramatically to Michael, who had completely forgotten about the stupid things until now. 

“Who cares if they don’t even remotely match! Fuck the system, we’re meant to be together!” the dark haired man pretended to wipe a tear away. Michael screwed his face up at him, “Okay, maybe not now, yikes,” Ray snatched his hand back and held it to his chest. The two of them once again shared a bout of laughter, neither noticing how the other was staring longingly at the tattoos on their knuckles. 

“Approaching your destination, Ray Narvaez Junior,” the car announced as it turned a corner. Ray looked out the window, smiling as familiar surroundings came into view.   
“It’s not much, but its home,” he said, climbing out of the taxi. Michael stared up at the enormous apartment complex before him. He had been fiddling with the various components of the taxi so much he hadn’t even noticed the surreal buildings that littered the city.

“Holy shit, you’ve got to be joking,” he couldn’t even see the top of the building, “Please tell me you’re at the top—I bet it looks fucking amazing up there!” he grinned, slugging his bags over his shoulder and following Ray to the door.

“Seventy-fifth floor, which is pretty close,” Ray chuckled at the New Jerseyan’s awestruck face. After entering a series of codes and sliding his card through yet another slot (which Michael mentally noted he needed to get) they boarded a brightly lit elevator. 

“Wanna see something really cool?” Ray asked, knowing the answer from the sparkle in the redhead’s eyes. He pressed a button on the elevator’s console and the walls faded out to reveal they were suspended in a glass box.

“Holy fuck!” Michael desperately grasped the nearest railing and backed against the wall, expecting Ray to do something with the multi-coloured lights, not get rid of the whole fucking box. They were travelling incredibly fast up the side of the building, and after overcoming his shock, Michael was captivated once again. Their building was one of the taller ones in the city, meaning the higher they got, the more Michael felt like he was flying (even if he still clung to the railing). 

When they got to the top, Michael frowned a bit, disappointed his adventure was over. Seeing the look on his face, Ray grinned, “If you thought that was cool, wait until you see the inside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's not much going on in this chapter; I'm dead-dog tired. Hopefully I'll get some exciting stuff up this weekend! As always, thank you for reading! <3


	9. Chapter 9

Michael literally dropped his bags as he entered Ray’s apartment. Back home, apartments were small, cramped, and generally smelled like whoever had lived there last. They weren’t exactly behind the times; they had just preferred to keep things traditional. These apartments were basically small houses—living room, half-size kitchen, two bath, master bedroom, guest room, day room, and a balcony. 

“Home, sweet, home,” Ray sighed, throwing his bags onto the sofa and flopping down beside them. Michael still stood with his mouth agape in the doorway—partly in awe, partly in shock: how was he ever going to be able to afford something like this? 

“Make yourself at home, just warn me before you start jerking off,” Ray grabbed a small remote from the coffee table and entered a few commands, causing a large television to appear from behind a panel of wall. 

“Jesus fucking Christ; how do you afford all this?” Michael inched towards the couch, forgetting his luggage at the door.

“This is one of the cheap apartments,” Ray laughed as Michael’s jaw dropped once again, “That’s one of the nice things about a big city; you can get some amazing shit for cheap, because everyone’s buying,” 

“How cheap is cheap?” the New Jerseyan croaked.

“About $540 a month,” Ray shrugged, flipping through apps on the television.

“I’m gonna need a fucking job. And soon—holy fuck,” Michael slumped down on the couch, wondering if he’d end up on the streets in a month. He couldn’t live with Ray the whole time he was here, and who knows what the price of tuition was at Taimire. 

“Don’t worry about it, you can stay here as long as you need to,” Ray grinned, “Plus I can see about getting you a job with me.”

Michael looked up, “And where would that be?” he was preparing to slap his new friend if he said he was a professional superhero.

“I’ll show you on Monday, you won’t believe me otherwise,”

“I swear to God if you work as a superhero or some stupid shit…” Michael laughed half-heartedly.

“Damn, does that mean you won’t wear the spandex?”

“God dammit, you fuck,” Michael chucked a pillow at Ray’s head.

“Don’t worry, it’s way better than being a superhero. Well, almost,”

“I guess I should start filling out my academy application, then,” Michael shuffled back to his bags to retrieve the referral, looking for contact information.

“Academy? For what?” 

“For school, dipshit. I didn’t just fly out here for nothing,” he attempted to straighten out the slip, which was incredibly wrinkled from two months of abuse.

“That’s what I did,” Ray laughed, “Which academy are you applying for?”

“Taimire,” there didn’t seem to be any contact information aside from the address.

“What?”

“Taimire Academy of the Arts,” Michael handed the slip over.

“Huh…uh, well, I could be wrong but this address is the same as my workplace…ad none of those idiots could teach a fish to swim,” Ray glanced up at Michael, watching the blood slowly drain from his face.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Tell me you’re fucking kidding me, because this is a shitty fucking joke if you are,” Michael clenched his hands into fists, feeling the anger bubble underneath his skin. 

“I’m uh, sorry dude, but I don’t think this is a real place,” Ray’s tone was apologetic as he gently laid the fraudulent paper on the coffee table.

“So I fucking worked my ass off for two months, dropped out of high school, and cost my parents thousands of dollars for a fucking fake school?” Michael’s voice increased in volume with every word until it became shrill and full of hatred.

“It uh, looks that way,” Ray scooted closer to the far end of the couch, away from the impending storm, “but whoever sent you this apparently wanted you to go to Rooster Teeth headquarters. Which is way fucking better than some art academy,” Ray tried to keep his voice even, even though his brain was confused as to why he wasn’t fleeing for his life.

“I knew that son of a bitch was lying to me!” Michael shrieked, grabbing the slip from the table and crumpling it up into a tight ball. “That fucker just wanted me out of the state!” he threw the wad of paper as hard as he could, which still didn’t send it very far. 

“Look, um, let me call my boss and I’ll tell him what’s going on; I’m sure he’ll hire you given the circumstances,” Ray certainly hoped he was right; he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Michael’s wrath if he was lying.

“Shit! What am I supposed to tell my parents?!” quickly his mood shifted—he was going to turn out to be a failure to his parents once again.

“Just don’t tell them,” Ray suggested, waiting for his boss to pick up, “Can’t hurt ‘em if they don’t know. Yolo, man,” Michael rolled his eyes, but was strongly considering it. He would tell them he got accepted, they would be happy, and it would be just like nothing had gone wrong. He sunk into the couch—of all the things to go wrong, it had to be this.

“Hey, Geoff, you got a moment?” “Yeah, I met a dude on the plane back,” “No he’s not my soul mate,” “I don’t think so,” Ray glanced up at Michael, who was staring quietly, awaiting the first good news of the day. Ray eventually explained the situation to the man on the other end. There was no sign that the man called Geoff had rejected the offer, so Michael perked up a bit.

“He says he’ll meet us on Monday, but I’m pretty sure you’ll get the job,” Ray smiled faintly, hoping the news was enough to change the gloomy atmosphere that had descended on the room.

“Sounds good,” Michael said simply, still unsure if he should even get his hopes up.

“Let’s order a pizza and I’ll kick your ass at some more games—that’ll get your mind off of things,” Ray made another phone call, and retrieved his Xbox from his bags.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Michael said, causing Ray to frown slightly, “I think I learned all your tricks on the plane,” the redhead laughed a bit and reached for a controller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got another chapter out, because I love you guys and you deserve another chapter tonight. Hahaha. <3


	10. Chapter 10

Monday came fairly quickly, which Michael was thankful for. Ray and his enormous collection of video games served as a great distraction from the disappointing Friday he had experienced. 

“Rise and shine, Michael! The time is 7:30 A.M on Monday, February 25th and you have a job interview today!” a cheery electronic voice called to him, rousing him from a strange dream about a robot girlfriend. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Michael looked around the room, expecting a drone to be hovering around his (surprisingly comfortable) bed with a change of clothes in tow. He was instead greeted by an alarm clock, which apparently already knew his name. 

“Would you like coffee or tea this morning, Michael?” the clock asked, causing him to drowsily prop himself up to examine the device.

“Hnnhhh..?” he mumbled, looking for the button that would disable it.

“Coffee or tea, sir?” the voice queried again, far too cheery at this early.

“How about a cup of shut the fuck up,” Michael smacked around desperately for the snooze button. Finally, he was able to at least get the indicator light to shut off, which was good enough for him. When he rolled back over, he saw Ray standing in his doorway fully dressed.

“I went ahead and programmed your clock for you; I know how much you love the drones,” he smirked and hit the light switch, illuminating the room causing Michael to groan and cover his face with a pillow.

“Get up, time for work. Don’t make me send more drones in here, I’ve got plenty,” he patted a small companion robot which had appeared from behind him holding a tray with a single cup of coffee.

“X-Ray, your coffee,” the robot said in a small voice.

“Did that thing seriously just call you X-Ray?” Michael’s voice was still muffled by the pillow.

Ray didn’t answer, but Michael felt him move closer to the bed. He expected him to yank the blankets off of him, much like his mother would do on days he was late for school, but instead he just felt a slight pressure on the blanket near him followed by a mechanical whirring.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ray announced with a chuckle and proceeded to leave the room.

Michael just rolled back over, still not intent on getting out of bed. That was when he found out what Ray had put beside him; a small robotic spider with two large red eyes was staring at him, blinking patiently. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Michael scrambled backwards, rolling out onto the floor. The small robot just walked towards him, twitching its two smaller legs in front of it.   
“What the fuck are you?” it just blinked at him. 

“What? Are you just gonna scare me out of bed and not have anything to say about it?” Michael began to stand, but was startled back onto his ass as the spider-like construct scuttled off his bed in a hurry. With a grunt Michael hauled himself back onto the bed and closed the door, hoping the little fucker wouldn’t be able to get back in. Rubbing his hands over his face, he decided he best get ready for the interview before Ray sent in more of his little companions. 

After a change of clothes, he made his way to the kitchen (not before noticing the small spider poking its eyes underneath the door to stare at him).

“Took you long enough,” Ray said, letting the spider run across his fingers, “I had a feeling RU would get you out of bed,” he smirked and sat it down on the floor, watching it clatter its way across the linoleum to Michael’s feet. 

“RU?” Michael asked, preparing to launch it across the apartment.

“Retrieving Unit—he can pick up little shit that falls behind the couch and stuff. I mainly use him to scare the dick off of people that stay the night.”

Just as Michael was about to kick it into oblivion, RU clumsily made its way back to a miniature charging dock and went to sleep.

“Do you people even do anything yourself?” Michael still wasn’t sure how to feel about living in a city almost completely operated by drones. 

“Well, they haven’t made a bot that will jerk me off yet, but I hear they’re working on it,” 

“Or you could, I don’t know, get a girlfriend,” it was Michael’s turn to laugh at the look on Ray’s face, who only scoffed and reached for his keys.

“You ready to go or what? I’m already running behind schedule,” he glanced at a clock on the wall and gave Michael a look of impatience.

“Calm your dickhole, let me grab some caffeine and we’ll go,” Michael reached for the fridge, but when he opened it, he discovered it was empty, “Dude, where the fuck is all your food?” 

“I uh, eat out a lot?” he said, having forgotten that an empty fridge was rather unusual. 

“Well, then I guess we’re ready to go since you’ve got fuck all to drink,” he grumbled and reached for his wallet, counting the singles inside, “Please tell me they have vending machines around here, and not some fuckface drone that sprays Red Bull down my throat.” 

Ray motioned him towards the door, and Michael noticed something was missing, “Hey X-Ray, where’s your cape?” he snickered.

“In my closet. What kind of nerd wears a cape to work?” Ray jeered, pretending to be offended.

The two of them decided it was far too early to watch themselves plummet to the ground in the elevator, so the walls remained intact during their descent. Two floors above the entrance they found the dining area, where vending machines were lined up against one wall, and a long deli-bar was along the other.

Michael made his way to a relatively normal looking vending machine, which thankfully contained Red Bull, and inserted his money. The machine whirred to life and a small robot clinked its way out onto a platform.

“God. Fucking. Dammit.” Michael groaned, pressing his forehead against the glass, growing wary of the abundance of robots that were to be his new life. 

“What’s wro—oh,” Ray laughed, “Another RU,” he tapped on the glass at it, and it blinked patiently. Michael tapped in the corresponding keys to retrieve his drink, and watched as the RU, half the size of the can, lifted the drink and hauled it down to the dispensary zone.

“Alright, I’ll admit, that was kind of cute,” Michael said lightly, popping open his beverage and taking a long drink.

“You’ll get used to them. Hell, in a few weeks I bet you’ll want one of your own,” Ray had a shit eating grin on his face, one that said he could expect his own personal drones, regardless of his willingness. 

Ray was rolling back and forth on his heels, watching Michael drink. His face was tight and Michael realised he was making his new friend even later for work, “Sorry,” he chuckled, heading back towards to elevator.

Ray, once again, hailed a taxi for the two of them. This time Michael would spend the ride gazing out at the various buildings instead of attempting to stab the drone in its cockpit.

They arrived at the Rooster Teeth office, which was starkly different than the surrounding buildings. It was an old airplane hangar, but not one like he’d seen at the airport. This one was short, though very large. It was a bit secluded, a few attempts to grow foliage were apparent, but there wasn’t much grass to be seen. Despite looking as if it were over 100 years old, the building was in incredible shape. 

“It’s an old building, as you can see. Geoff says it’s one of only a few buildings left over from the 21st century,” Ray said as he paid the fare. 

Michael stared up at it, though not having to crane his neck as far as he would for the hangars he was familiar with. Large print words were stood above the entrance, clearly reading ‘ROOSTER TEETH’ and not ‘Taimire Academy of the Arts’. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, disappointment flooding back to him. 

He really hoped Ray was right about this job being better than the academy would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell, AU Ray is a techy that loves robots. 
> 
> Also, hooray for the new RT office!  
> *cries and cheers at the same time*


	11. Chapter 11

“Hey shithead, you’re late,” a man said as they entered what Michael assumed was Ray’s office. Michael looked around, confused by the lack of office supplies and by the abundance of televisions, projectors, and Xboxes. 

“Uhh, is this the break room or something?” Michael said, standing by the door, unsure if he was permitted to enter.

“Nah dude, this is work,” the man said, giving Michael a grin that curled his moustache even further around his cheeks.

“Wait, what? Ray, what is it exactly that you do?” the redhead furrowed his brow, preparing himself to walk out at the unearthing of another lie.

“I play video games. Seriously,” Ray sat down at his desk, powering up his computer.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Michael snarled at the back of his friend’s head, “You’re expecting me to believe that you play video games for a living?”

“We all do,” a taller man said, easing his way past Michael who was still in the doorway.

“This is fucking ridiculous. This whole trip has been fucking ridiculous,” Michael clamped his hands into his hair, trying not to scream. Ray sighed heavily and scooted back from his desk to face Michael, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

“Look,” he started, his agitation beginning to come through, “why don’t you sit down and we’ll show you?” he motioned towards an empty desk—clearly they had been searching for another employee. Michael slowly made his way to the desk, pushing his chair closer to Ray’s, “So, either this is an incredibly elaborate scheme…”

“Or you just got the best job ever? Yeah, tell me about it,” said the man with the moustache, clicking the bumpers on his controller rapidly, “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, and tossed the controller onto his desk, “This game is as hard as dicks.” Michael turned around and noticed it was one of his favourite games, and scooted his way towards the other man’s desk, “Mind if I try? I’ve played the shit out of his game,” he grinned and reached for the controller.

“By all means, go for it. You must be Michael, I’m Geoff,” Geoff gave him an encouraging pat on the back and sat back with a beer he had procured from seemingly nowhere. “The creepy fucker you let walk up behind you is Ryan, Jack is uh…somewhere,” he looked around for the missing man, but shrugged, “and we’ll introduce the others to you later if you can get me past this fuckin’ level.” 

Michael easily completed the stage Geoff was stuck on, earning a laugh from the other two men in the room, “So, you can play video games. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo,” Michael noticed Geoff’s voice cracked occasionally as he spoke, “but do you have what it takes to be an Achievement Hunter?” Geoff propped his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair as he gave Michael the once-over. 

“To be a what?”

“An Achievement Hunter, it’s one of the divisions of Rooster Teeth,”

“I uhh—I guess? What are the requirements?” Michael quirked an eyebrow, still unsure if this was actually happening. 

“Well, you’ve proven you’re a decent gamer, but the real qualifier is this:” Geoff leaned forward, his face growing serious, causing Michael to become a bit nervous, “can you start today?” his face broke into a grin and Michael laughed uncertainly.

“W-what? Don’t you have to like, interview me or some shit first?” 

Geoff chuckled, “Screw that, Ray told me what’s up and how your teacher fucked you over. I’d hate for you have come all the way out here for nothing—we’ll find something for you to do.” Breathing a sigh of relief, Michael nodded, “Then fuck yeah, I can start today!”

“Good, because I already planned to have you in the Let’s Play,” Geoff said, pulling an Xbox Infinity from underneath his desk, “That’s your desk from now on. Get set up and we’ll start,” he then turned his attention back to his game, letting Michael make himself comfortable. It took a moment for it to register in his brain, but as soon as it did, the happiness that swirled up inside him was indescribable. Thanks to the new model, there was very little to actually hook up in regards to the Xbox, so they were ready to begin almost immediately. Ray quickly showed him the recording tools and helped him sync his audio, finally cheering up having been doing something productive with his morning.

“Let’s play!” Cried Geoff, initiating what would be the best morning of Michael Jones’ life.  
__

Michael decided tonight was when he should call his parents, though he had promised to call as soon as he landed. He fished the neglected (and dead) phone from his backpack. After it gained some charge, he realised he probably should have called sooner: fifteen missed calls and twelve holo-messages awaited him. He didn’t bother with any of the messages, as he already knew what they contained. 

“Hey, mom?” he tried to sound as unconcerned as possible, but was greeted with a vicious bout of anger and relief his mother had stored up over the last few days.  
“Where the hell have you been?! We thought you had died! Or gotten lost or—“

“Mom, I’ve been busy is all. Finding an apartment, job, enrolling…” the last bit caught in his throat, as lies never were the easiest thing to come by for him, “time just got away from me, I swear.”

His mother sighed and sniffled, “I’m glad you called,” he felt immensely guilty now, “how are things in Texas then? Your father and I have been worried sick that you weren’t able to find a place to live.”

“Things are great here! I met a guy—“

“Oh honey that’s wonderful!” 

“Oh, for shit’s sake mom, not like that. He’s a friend, and actually let me stay with him for a bit—got me a job as well,” he was grinning from ear to ear at the mention of his new job. Michael heard a door close and the receiver on his mother’s phone was muffled. He suspected his father was home and braced himself for another lecture.

“Honey, your father’s here, he wants to talk to you,” Great. Here it comes.

“Hey there, sport. How are things? You’re not an adult yet, so there’s no reason why you can’t call up your folks,” his father attempted to stay playful, but was obviously distressed by his son’s lack of contact.

“I-I’m sorry dad. I’ve just been busy, and the time difference…” Michael started, wracking his brain for every excuse he could manage without blatantly lying.

“It’s alright son, we’re just glad you’re safe. Did you find Taimire alright?” Fuck. Now he had to lie to his father, too?

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. It was really easy to find,” Michael tried not to talk too quickly, as to make it obvious he hadn’t found the place. The last thing he needed was his parents conducting a legal complaint to have their son flown back to New Jersey. The two of them spoke for a while longer before the phone was handed back to his mother, who continued to voice her concern about him being in Texas alone. 

“I’m alright mom, promise. But uh, I’ve got some plans with some co-workers tonight, so I’m gonna go get ready,” he rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to let his guilt swallow him whole.

“Alright hon, have fun!” with a click he was free for at least another week or so—neither of his parents expected him to call every day.

“You sure are weird when you talk to your parents,” Ray said as he rounded the corner, apparently having listened to half of the conversation.

“And you sure are fuckin’ nosey,” Michael said defensively, forgetting whose apartment he was in.

“It’s not my fault you talk loud enough for this end of town to hear,” Ray finished off a bottle of water and tossed it into the garbage bag he was holding, which he then extended to Michael, “Take this down to the disposal unit if you would,” Michael didn’t budge, “please? There’s no drones, promise.”

“You mean you don’t have drones to take off the trash?”

“Nah, apparently taking off our own trash is the way the government reminds us of what the world’s worth—or some shit like that,” Ray shrugged and handed over the bag. 

“The disposal unit’s on the base floor around the side of the building; tall blue exhaust pipe and lots of flashy buttons. Just hit the incinerate button after you throw the bag in, and ta-da, instant by product,” Ray returned to his spot on the couch, resuming the game that had been paused in the background.

“Right, just don’t lock me out,” Michael paused by the door and grabbed the house key from the hook just in case. 

Michael followed Ray’s instructions and easily found the disposal unit. The machine was taller than Michael and had a large compartment on the front, surrounded by a multitude of lights and buttons. A tall exhaust pipe ran up the expanse of the building until it wasn’t visible beyond the clouds. As Michael chucked the back into the unit, he thought he saw something move from the corner of his eye. He dismissed it as a piece of trash fluttering by, as the setting sun gave even the smallest of objects a towering shadow.

Though as he went to press the ignite button, he glanced up just in time to see a human shaped shadow stretch across the alley just before disappearing behind another building. Quickly he assumed a defensive stance, preparing himself for anything.

“Is someone there?” he called into the shadows as he slowly (and stupidly, he might add) walked in its direction. From around the corner he briefly spotted two green orbs staring back at him before once again vanishing into the encroaching darkness.

Michael, unfamiliar with the flora and fauna of Texas, decided against following the figure into the night. He had played far too many horror games to believe that to be a logical decision.

“Man, what the fuck,” he muttered, hitting the ignite command on the trash disposal. The bright flash of an intense flame further illuminated the area, giving him a better look at what was previously hidden in shadows. 

What he saw, however, wasn’t what he was expecting. The human shaped shadow was now looming above him, being cast onto the nearest wall. What the fuck was a human doing climbing around on buildings at this time of day? 

“Alright shithead, I can see you, so come on out!” Michael called, his voice echoing off the nearby structures.

“Oh, bollocks,” an odd voice cried out, followed by the shuffling of feet, then a loud crash as it stumbled off its perch.

Once again, it was dimly lit, only the emergency lamps in various locations serving as insight into the unknown shadows. Michael shook his head, figuring whatever (or whoever) it was climbing around like an ape was gone now, and that he shouldn’t worry himself further. 

Ray was going to enjoy hearing about his disposal adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that? I THINK IT IS.   
> Our favourite idiot will make an appearance soon. <3


	12. Chapter 12

“Are there any uh…people sized raccoons I should be worried about?” Michael asked as he entered the apartment, earning a puzzled look from Ray.

“I uh-what?” Ray blinked at him, still trying to process what he had just been asked.

 “People sized raccoons,” Michael said, as if it were a completely normal phase to come up in conversation.

“N…not that I’m aware of..?” Ray wasn’t completely sure himself; he spent 95% of his time indoors, only daring to venture outside to get to work.

“Well then there was definitely some dipshit watching me in the alley,”

“Maybe we should take the trash off during the daytime…” Ray began, silently thankful he was 75 floors up—no one would dare try to climb that high. Or so he hoped.

“The idiot fell off the fucking roof because I startled him; I highly doubt he’s dangerous,” he claimed his seat on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. Ray still looked a bit nervous, but said nothing more about it.

Much to Michael’s disappointment, the next week went by very smoothly. He had grown so accustomed to odd things happening, that now that things were going as planned, he felt even more distraught than when they did not. Ray, of course, was the first to notice Michael’s discomfort.

“Hey, are you alright? I thought you weren’t spooked by the man sized raccoon you saw last week,” Ray asked during their lunch break, which was actually just eating during video edits.

“The what? Oh, no. Fuck no, man. It’s just been this whole week; nothing weird has happened, which is weird in itself I guess and it’s got me on edge,” Ray made a noise of understanding around his burrito, though not taking his eyes off of his screen. Michael, however, hardly noticed, as his attention was focussed on his own screen; this had become their usual form of communication during work hours. Eye contact was unneeded with the two of them, as most of what they were saying could be communicated via the current video game, and if not, a sniper rifle often got the message across.

That evening, however, Michael’s clean streak was broken. Once again he found himself at the disposal unit, this time through volunteering. He not-so-secretly hoped the strange man would make himself known, to which Ray didn’t argue as he wasn’t fond of taking the garbage off himself. (He had once explained how he tried to send one of his drones down to the unit, just to prove he could. He was then contacted by the sanitation committee that his garbage had been distributed down the block and shoved into various mailboxes. He also hasn’t seen the bot since).

Michael exited the building purposefully noisy, rattling the bag against the railings, coughing into the cooling air, and shuffling his feet across the sidewalk. He hoped the noise would pique the curiosity of the man, were he hiding out in the alley once again. Other than the usual din of robotic taxis and elevators whirring, there was no noise. Michael shoved the trash into the bin and ignited it, sighing heavily. Maybe he’d worn out his welcome when it came to excitement. Just to be sure, he waited by the control panel for a few moments more, paying close attention to any possible movement.

Nothing. It was absolutely still. Not even a rat scuttled by; robotic or not. Adorning his intricate mask of disappointment, he turned on his heel to ascend the stairs back to his safe haven of normalcy. That’s when he saw him; those green eyes were peering at him from the opposite side of the building—nowhere near the disposal unit. Immediately Michael perked up, “Hey!” he called out; forgetting that whoever they were was incredibly skittish and would probably dart at the sudden inflection. Just as logic (would have) predicted, the figure dodged behind the edge of the building.

“Hey! Wait, no!” Michael reached his hand out, as if to use some telekinetic powers to pull the figure back to its corner, “God dammit,” he grumbled. Though this time he saw the two sparkling orbs make their appearance again; seemingly just as curious as Michael.

“Oh, hey,” Michael called softly, feeling as if he were coaxing a scared animal. And to think of it, he may as well be. The image of a human sized raccoon scampered its way across his imagination, but he decided to take his chances.

“Come on out, I won’t hurt you,” Michael cooed, trying to sound convincing. If it attacked him, he would certainly change his mind. But something in its eyes told Michael that whatever it was hiding in the darkness was definitely not something prone to attacks. His tone must have been right, because slowly the figure inched around the corner until it was halfway visible, though still clasping the corner of the building like an oversized shield.

It was a man. A very scraggly, very dirty one, but it was a man. Michael blinked rapidly, trying to figure out whom or what or why. As he began to take a step forward, the man instinctively dodged behind the building. It was no wonder he was a scavenger, with as skittish as he was he would never be able to kill to survive. If there even was anything to kill—and what the fuck was Michael thinking? He had just been given clarification that this was indeed a human being and not an animal.

“S-sorry. Sorry,” Michael stepped back and the man felt safe enough to emerge again, “Are you-are you okay?” he wasn’t sure what the most appropriate conversation method was in this situation. Michael eased his way closer to the man, who flinched but didn’t attempt to flee. The elevator whirred to life again, though Michael didn’t notice until his roommate clunked out of the doors, “Did you fuckin’ fall in or someth—“

“Shh!” Michael hissed, but when he turned back to the mysterious man, he was gone, “God dammit Ray!”

“Oh, did I scare your boyfriend off?” Ray smirked, but Michael ignored his comment, returning to the area the figure had been, hoping he hadn’t wandered off too far. No such luck, he was once again nowhere to be seen. Sighing, Michael returned to the elevator with Ray.

“Maybe it’ll be back tomorrow. You should take it some food, critters like food,”

“ _He’s_ not a fuckin’ critter, _he’s_ a person,” Michael felt oddly defensive of a man he hadn’t even met.

“Well _he_ sure scatters like one,” Ray glared at Michael, agitated by his incessant usage of pronouns that may or may not even be applicable. Michael sat down on the steps and groaned.

“You’re not going to sit out here and wait for him to come back are you?” the look Michael had on his face answered for him, “You’re a fucking idiot. Get back in the house, you’re grounded,” Ray tried his hardest not to laugh as he pointed commandingly at the door. The New Jerseyan just peered up at Ray over his glasses, laughing breathily. After a poor attempt at assertion of dominance, Michael clapped his hands over his knees and sighed, “Fine,” and marched through the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh glob, oh glob. I'm so sorry. This chapter isn't very good. But I wanted to give you guys an update! I have finals coming up, so it may be a week or two before I get another update in. (I'll probably procrastinate and write 5 chapters instead oops).
> 
> But just in case I go MIA for a bit, that's where I am: asleep on a text book learning via osmosis. 
> 
> I love all you readers and kudos leavers! Your support makes writing this so much fun! <3 
> 
> (I also just discovered the Rich Text option, woo! No more weird spacing mistakes)


	13. Chapter 13

The next day, Michael found himself constantly reminded of those green eyes the rugged man had. They were quite breath taking if Michael so allowed himself to think so. But he didn’t, because he was a confidently straight man…but then again, what harm was it in finding another man’s eyes beautiful, right?

“Hey dreamer boy, stop thinking about your boyfriend and help me get set up,” Geoff interrupted.

“What? Boyfriend?...Ray…” Michael rolled his eyes and began to help Geoff set up for their next Let’s Play. Then it occurred to him: he had no recollection of getting to work that morning. Had he been so encompassed in thinking about the mystery man he had completely zoned out?

“What about Ray?” speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear. Bearing Red Bulls, apparently. Michael glanced at him and huffed, passive aggressively plugging cords into an older Xbox. “Oh, poor Mikey Wikey. Was your boyfriend supposed to be a secret?” Ray had a shit-eating grin on his face, obviously revelling in being able to frustrate him (which was very easy to do).

“One: not my fucking boyfriend. I can’t even get him to fucking come to me,” Michael blurted out, then attempted to backtrack, because he knew exactly where it would lead. It was too late; Ray was far too quick on sexual innuendos.

“Sounds like you just don’t know how to please your man, then,” his grin grew as the reward of laughter danced around the room. Michael just pursed his lips and brushed it off. Ray was looking for a reaction, and he wasn’t going to get one. Not this time.

“And two: it’s no one’s fucking business!” Well, change of plans. Michael could feel his skin grow a bit hot as he once again found himself feeling defensive over an unknown man.

“Chill the fuck out, no one cares if you’re banging dudes,” Geoff scoffed and finished his task and hunkered down in his chair. Michael threw his hands up in defeat, taking his place as his desk as well. Maybe a round of out-dated games would make him forget about those gorgeous green eyes.

__

That night, as previously planned, Michael rode the elevator down to try to coerce the haggard man out into the open. Though this time he came bearing a plate of pizza they had ordered a few hours before. Everyone liked pizza; even people that hadn’t had it yet liked it. It seemed like a good idea to Michael, anyway, and Ray had no alternatives (aside from putting out a bowl of kibble).

It was nearing sundown and the emergency lamps paired with the automatic street lights gave the street an eerie glow. And here he was with a plate of pizza about to try to lure a human to him. It just screamed b-rated horror movie. He would offer the pizza, then lose and arm and run screaming through the streets only to find that he was trapped in a cyber-universe where no one was real and Ray was a hologram.

Alright, so maybe Michael’s imagination was running wild. He did have plenty of time to think, as he had been sitting on the stone steps for an hour now. With his ass beginning to ache and the pizza have long since gone cold, he was considering giving up for the night. Just as he was about to throw get up, he heard some rustling around the corner, which perked him up immensely.

Slowly he stood up and sat the plate down on the steps and made his way towards the noise. Nearing the corner he poked his head around, hoping to find what he had been waiting for. Instead, it was a mangy dog covered in spots and lesions.

“Oh shit,” Michael scurried backwards and retreated to the elevator, hoping he didn’t draw too much attention to himself. Once he was safe inside the compartment, the disappointment hit him square in the jaw. He hadn’t even realised how excited he was to find the man again until he didn’t show. Now he had to endure the embarrassment of going back to Ray.

“Does the city have animal control or some shit?” Michael immediately asked as he entered the door, as to draw away from any insults Ray may be preloading.

“Yeah, some bots do sweeps on Thursdays. Why?”

“Just some rabid looking dog rummaging around down there,”

“Aww, that’s not a very nice thing to say about your boyfriend,”

“Shut the fuck up, he’s not my boyfriend. And he didn’t even show up,” Michael was hoping he wasn’t pouting.

“Mikey got stood up!”

“Quit fucking calling me that!” Michael chucked a pillow at his head.

“Oh, cheer up. They’ve got plenty of fem-bots that would be more than happy to keep you company,” Ray piped up, and Michael shot him a judging glance, “Not that I’d know, just…like, on TV and stuff. Quit looking at me like that!” Ray clasped the pillow to his chest and diverted his attention from Michael who began to cackle whole-heartedly.

“You’re such a fucking freak,” Ray really was, but he was the best kind of freak, and Michael adored his company because of it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a disclaimer at the end, which I put there instead of here because spoilers.

“Everybody stop, I can’t fucking take this anymore,” everyone in the room looked up at Geoff, confusion riddling their faces.

“Michael, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Geoff was boring holes into the redhead’s skull.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Michael was a bit disgusted by the accusation.

“For the last fucking week you’ve been acting like someone shot your dog and sent it to you in a gift wrapped box saying ‘love Mom’,” Geoff’s analogy earned quite a few muffled snickers from Ryan and Ray.

“Except that I haven’t?” Michael crossed his arms and glared at his boss, whom he highly respected, except for right now. Geoff just looked around the room at the rest of the gang, signalling that now was their time to pipe up.

“You sort of have…” Ryan said slowly, “You didn’t even complain when I cheated my way to winning that last round,” Michael was about to yell in protest, but then realised…it was true. He hadn’t said a word, because he’d been far too preoccupied with how he was going to lure out mystery boy to care that Ryan had overtaken his lead by cheating.

“I’ve just got some…shit on my mind,” Michael murmured, but was immediately talked over.

“Bullshit, Ray told us what’s up and you need to knock it off,” Geoff huffed, “If you’re going to let the appearance of some random dude throw you off, you’re obviously missing something. And if it’s excitement, then all you gotta do is say so, buddy,” Geoff was smiling empathetically; he showed compassion in the strangest ways, but it was the most genuine sort you could find.

“Yeah, let’s go out tonight, have some drinks,” he continued.

“And water,” Ray muttered.

“And water, and we’ll just have a grand old time,” Geoff was feeling quite confident that he could convince Michael to forget about the lad.

“Alright, fine. If you’re seriously that fucking worried about me,” Michael rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly, but figured, what did he have to lose?

__

Michael should have known Geoff would have something more than drinks up his sleeve. As he and Ray arrived at the bar, he noticed another person sitting with Geoff, Jack, and Ryan: a female with long red hair.

“What the fuck is this…” Michael muttered under his breath as he approached the table.

“And there he is!” cried Geoff, grinning at them as they approached, causing the female to turn around. Her face was kind, and incredibly gorgeous. A smile ripped itself across Michael’s face as he got closer to them.

“Hey Ray,” she said quietly, and he smiled, taking a seat next to her.

“Michael, this is Lindsay. I think she can help you with your uhh, problem,” Geoff snickered at the thought.

“H-hi Lindsay, I’m—right. Already said that,” Michael laughed nervously, taking his seat. She just giggled at him, causing his stomach to flutter a bit. He hadn’t spoken to a female since he left New Jersey, and it was showing. Though one thing that he apparently had held onto was his immediate check of her knuckles, which were of course adorned in intricate blue patterns; his inconspicuousness was something he was lacking. Even though he had never received his confirmation letter, he had still developed the habit of checking for himself—in case it was just a system fluke.

Without a word, she stretched her hand out to allow him to examine them, causing the rest of the table to shoot accusing looks at Michael.

“At least get to know her first!” Geoff cracked, but Michael frowned as he was able to recognise that their symbols didn’t match without even a close comparison. Hours of staring at one’s own adornments would do that.

She smiled apologetically, but the friendliness and interest in her face didn’t disappear. It was comforting to Michael, as a majority of the women he had consulted wouldn’t give him a second glance after discovering they had mismatching symbols.

Over drinks and distasteful jokes, the night rolled on smoothly. Michael discovered that he and Lindsay had amazing chemistry, which stabbed a fork in his heart as he had to accept the fact that she was destined to be with someone else in the end. But it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun until then.

As they were about to leave, Ray nudged Michael in the ribs and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, pointing to Lindsay—who was literally standing right there.

“Great job being discrete,” Michael shook his head, laughing. Ray claimed he had some things to do at the office and left with the rest of the gang, all of which kept looking back expectantly to Michael and Lindsay.

“So, um, wanna come hang out at my place? Well, Ray’s…we share an apartment,” he stared at the ground, rubbing his neck nervously. Had he really lost his touch with women? He would usually have her pinned against a wall, snogging her until she begged for air. Something about her felt different though, he didn’t feel the desire to take advantage of her. Maybe Geoff was right; he was acting a bit strange.

“I’d love to, Ray doesn’t look like he minded,” she smirked and linked her arm with Michael as they exited the building. As if the universe were finally cheering Michael Jones on, he was able to hail a taxi, correctly give his address, and provide fare…plus he had a gorgeous woman riding home with him.

The two of them chatted idly during the ride to the apartment, learning random tid-bits of information about one another. All was going well until they arrived at their destination, and on the front steps was a man chewing on left over pizza.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Michael pressed his head into his hands.

“Uh…do you know him?” Lindsay asked with uncertainty painted on her face.

“Well…yes and no…mostly no,” he really didn’t want to explain this now, not since everything had been going so well.

“Riiight…is he…dangerous?”

“No…at least I don’t think so,” Michael sighed, feeling like an idiot.

“Is he _human_?” her voice told Michael she wasn’t regretting her decision to leave with him, and was slowly filling with curiosity.

“I think he is…” he laughed, “I really don’t know. I’ve only seen him around here twice…he’s the um…problem, Geoff said I had,” he winced, hoping that didn’t sound too insane.

“Oh, well, let’s go try to talk to him!” she chirped, reaching for the door handle.

“Wait, he’s really skittish,” Michael sighed again, he sounded like a loony. He tapped on the taxi’s command centre and directed it to drive down the road a few houses. Hopefully the two of them would be able to approach without frightening him away.

Rounding the corner, Michael went first, hoping a familiar face would cause him to be more unlikely to flee, “Hey,” he called softly, and the man perked up, his eyes locked onto Michael’s.

“Hey, I uh, I have a friend with me, she’s nice,” he motioned Lindsay forward and she approached cautiously. The man nimbly jumped over the railings when he saw her, and peeked over it at them.

“No, no, come on. Don’t fucking run from me again,” Michael grumbled, still working his way forward. To his relief, he stayed put behind the concrete railing.

“I hope you don’t think I’m batshit crazy,” Michael said, searching Lindsay’s face for any sign of fear or mockery.

“Maybe just a little, but I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if this cutie stumbled up on my door step,” she smiled at the man, who quickly dodged out of sight, but slowly came back into view, “He’s like a kitty,” she clicked her tongue at him, causing him to furrow his brow at her. Michael just laughed; she was just as nuts as he was.

“Come here, little guy. Come say hi,” she patted the step next to her, and Michael grabbed the plate he had been eating from and held it out, offering what was left on it to him.

It took quite some time, and a hell of a lot of patience, but the man finally slinked out and sat an arm’s length away from them. He watched them curiously, green orbs darting back and forth between the two of them.

For the first time, Michael got a good look at the man. He was dirty, his hair was long and tangled, and a scruffy beard adorned his cheeks and chin. He was roughly Michael’s age, but appeared to have been homeless for quite some time.

“So, do you talk?” he had obviously understood them well enough to know they weren’t going to hurt him. Instead he cocked his head to the side, causing Michael to sigh, “Talk? With your mouth?” he made a rudimentary attempt at sign language, but only received a puzzled look.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael huffed, and the man smiled and shoved a pizza crust in his mouth.

“Aww! He’s adorable,” Lindsay cooed, and the man just furrowed his brow at her again.

“I don’t think he likes you much,” Michael chuckled, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. This was going to be difficult; he hadn’t expected the man to be just as feral as he looked. Suddenly the plate was empty and the man made a whining noise.

“At least I guessed you liked pizza,” Michael leaned back on the step and stared at the empty sky.

“Pizza?” the man asked, causing both redheads to snap their attention forward.

“So you do talk!” Michael exclaimed, feeling relief wash over him. He wasn’t prepared to try to teach someone the English language.

“I didn’t realise you dopes spoke English,” the man said, a foreign accent heavy on his tongue. Michael and Lindsay just exchanged confused glances; was he stupid? Or just selectively deaf?

“If we weren’t speaking English, then what the fuck were we speaking?” the man cocked his head at them again, but apparently something clicked in his brain. Whether it was the smoke billowing from his ears or the rusty creaking of the hamster wheel in his brain, Michael couldn’t decide.

“You guys sound weird,” he said finally.

“You’re one to talk!”

“I think he’s British,” Lindsay said, seemingly struck silent by the man’s ability to speak.

“He’s what? British? What the fuck is that?”

“I sort of remember them from history class—apparently they’re from what used to be Great Britain, essentially the mother to America,” Lindsay crinkled her face up at the strange man, pondering a possible explanation.

“Okay…then how the hell did he end up here?” Michael asked—he never paid attention in history class, and by the time he did, they were already covering the end of the third world war. She just shrugged.

“I have no idea. I thought all transport routes were closed off from other parts of the world,”

“Well, whatever. He’s here now, so we’ve gotta figure out what to do with him. Do we just leave him?”

As they were discussing things, they hadn’t noticed the man slowly inch closer and closer to them, until he was barely an inch from them.

“Holy fuck!” Michael finally noticed, and jolted back a bit.

“You even look weird,”

“At least we don’t smell like a wet rat, holy hell,” Michael scooted backwards, but Lindsay just stayed put.

“I don’t smell,” the man said, sniffing himself.

“Yeah you do, you need a bath, pronto,” Michael stopped himself—since when had he decided he was keeping him?

“So what’s your name?” Lindsay asked, ignoring the both of them. What she got as an answer was a garbled mess of syllables that neither of them knew what to do with. Michael took a wild stab at trying to repeat what was said, but only managed to grab a name he’d heard in a game once, “Gavin?”

The man shook his head and repeated himself.

“Right, Gavin,” Michael said, deciding that would be his name, whether he liked it or not. Once again, the man shook his head and attempted to repeat himself, to which Michael just spoke over, “Nope, your name is Gavin now. I can’t pronounce your fuckery of a real name, so get over it.”

Gavin pouted, but decided it was good enough. Lindsay just giggled, “I like it. Gavvy wavvy!” she squeaked, and got a discerning look from Gavin.

“Gavin,” Gavin said, tasting the word on his tongue, “I guess that’s close enough…what’s yours?”

“Michael, and this is Lindsay,”

“Micoo and Lindsay,” Gavin said, testing out the names.

Michael scoffed, “No, shithead, Michael. Mic-hael.”

“Mi-coooo,”

“Michael,”

“Micoo,”

Lindsay was buckled over in laughter by now. Michael just sighed, “Close enough.”

The three of them sat and attempted to communicate, most of which involved Gavin objecting to what was being said, or how it was being said. As far as first dates go, Michael couldn’t have asked for a better one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *************  
> ***NOTICE***  
> *************  
> Okay super mega omg disclaimer. This chapter identifies Gavin as British in a way that gives him an alien status. Just for clarification, I LOVE BRITAIN. I love every country, but for this to work I needed to alienate him to give him a bit of a feral background. 
> 
> Some backstory hooplah: the third world war happened, and a majority of the countries cut off ties to their allies, thus ending travelling abroad as well as communication with other continents/countries. Without outside influences, Britain (for example) became even more British and basically developed it's own language, or at least lost the ability to coherently understand other dialects. 
> 
> So please, please, please don't think I'm being rude. I'll explain more in future chapters. <3
> 
> And just because I'm a twerp about details, there isn't a set drinking age in this future setting due to the reduced need to operate a majority of vehicles and machinery. (Yay robots, lets get drunk o/`)
> 
> Whew, long chapter! I forced an ending because there's a big chunk of stuff about to happen, and I prefer to make it as easy to read as possible. 
> 
> <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaack! I hope the wait wasn't too painful.

That is, until Ray made his way home. The slam of the taxi door didn’t call forth the attention of the trio, but Ray’s laughter echoing off the walls startled them all. Michael and Lindsay immediately snapped their heads towards the noise, whilst Gavin high-tailed it into the nearest shadowy corner.

“Look at the happy family!” he jeered, grinning devilishly.

“What the fuck, Ray?” Michael searched for any sign of Gavin, “You scared him off! Do you have any idea how fucking long it took to get him to come out?” Ray just pursed his lips and shrugged dramatically, giving Lindsay a coy smile.

“Gavin!” Michael called, hoping he would recognise his new name. “Gavin, please come back out…” he groaned, feeling slightly confused as to whether he was calling for a human or a stray dog. After thirty more minutes of calling out his name at varying frequencies, Gavin poked his head out from behind the disposal unit.

“Micoo?”

“There you are…” Michael ignored the quiet giggles from Ray, slowly approaching the skittish Brit.

“Micoo, who is that…” Gavin whispered, eyeing Ray cautiously.

“That, is Ray. An annoying prick,” he glanced backwards at his roommate, “he’s basically harmless unless you’re a drone. Then he’ll probably want your number,” Gavin cocked his head to the side, a gesture Michael had grown accustomed to. It reminded him of the stray that used to run around his neighbourhood back in Jersey—it also reminded him that it was going to take some serious work to remember that Gavin was indeed a human being.

Gavin peeked cautiously over Michael’s shoulder to the slim, dark-haired man who was grinning in his direction. “He’s lookin’ at me, Micoo…” Gavin whispered, causing Michael to just laugh.

“Like I said, he’s harmless. Come say hi,” as the two of them approached the others, Michael stayed close behind Gavin, still feeling an odd and almost overwhelming protectiveness over Gavin. Thankfully, with Ray being Ray, Gavin took to him even quicker than Michael did on his plane ride over.

“Holy fuck man, you stink. What dy’ou live in a dumpster or something?” Ray jeered, dramatically fanning his hand in front of his nose. Michael shot daggers at his friend, but Gavin seemed to take no offense. _I’m the only one allowed to insult Gavin like that_ , he thought, and then quickly blinked it away.

“Nah, I live in a village. It’s pretty top,” Gavin said, looking proud of whatever humble abode he called home. The mention of a village simultaneously caught the attention of the trio—there was no room for a village anywhere near Austin, especially not one that could maintain seclusion from other people.

“A uh…village?” Michael finally piped up.

“Yeah, you should come visit!” Gavin was practically oozing happiness, “Well, once I go back and tell them you’re not gonna eat them…” he furrowed his brow, but then a smile quickly returned to his face. Apparently he was still weighing the possibility.

“Are you sure they’ll want to meet all of us? I mean…you kind of hid from me for a few months,” Michael wasn’t sure he wanted to meet an entire village full of Brits, especially if they were as skittish as Gavin. Gavin chewed on his lip, his eyes darting quickly from one person to the next, “Maybe just you first, Micoo,” he smiled shyly at the redhead, a look that caused the other’s stomach to do flips.

“R-right,” Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck, attempting to focus on the sensation rather than the front flips his organs were doing. _What the fuck._

“It’s better for them to just meet your boyfriend first, wouldn’t wanna overwhelm them,” Ray smirked and fished his keys from his pocket—he’d apparently had enough odd social interaction for one day. He dodged out of the way before Michael could land a playful (sort of) punch on his shoulder. Lindsay merely giggled, and Gavin of course, stood there naively with his head cocked to the side.

“I should probably get back home, too. It’s late,” Lindsay said, glancing at her phone. Michael frowned a bit, not having been keeping track of time.

“What time is it?”

“Almost curfew,” she smiled apologetically, “It was nice meeting you. Maybe we can do it again sometime?” Michael still wasn’t used to having a government regulated curfew time—but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out if the punishments were as awkward as Ray had explained them to be (he highly doubted that you were forced to listen to music from the 21st century, but he wasn’t about to find out).

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he turned to ascend the stairs but was stopped.

“You’re not just gonna leave him out here, are you?” Lindsay apparently hadn’t moved from her spot. Michael turned to where Gavin was just staring up at him, those green orbs sparkling in the street lights.

“Ray would fucking kill me if I brought him in,” he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling guilty now. He had fed Gavin and all but scratched him behind the ears—was he supposed to take him home like a stray as well?

“Then let him, he’s not just some stray animal. He’s a human, too. At least let him take a shower,” Lindsay gave Michael a discerning look, putting a hand on her hip as to help influence the decision (or so he believed, since it always worked when his mother did it).

“Alright, fine. Just a shower…and maybe a haircut so he actually looks like a person and not a mangy mutt…” Gavin was just staring at the two of them, “Come on, Gav. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he pointed to the door, “You too, Lindsay. You suggested it, you can cut his hair,” he smirked; glad the night worked out in a way that meant Lindsay had to stay at the apartment. Of course, he’d never hear the end of it from Ray, but he couldn’t say no to Lindsay—that much had become clear. She was far too convincing.


	16. Chapter 16

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ray said, standing up upon seeing two extra bodies enter the door, “No, no. He’s not coming in here. Lindsay’s cool, she can stay, but him, no. Hell no.”

“Dude, come on. It took forever to get him into the fucking elevator and even longer to convince him he wasn’t going to fall out,” Michael was standing between Gavin and Ray, that protective feeling surge over him.

“Micoo, it’s okay,” Gavin squeaked softly behind him.

“Nah, Gav. You need a shower, like bad,”

“What? You want to bathe him too?” Ray grumbled then flung himself back down on the couch, “Fine, whatever. I better not find out he jerked off all over my stuff.”

In the bathroom light, Michael and Lindsay realised how filthy Gavin really was: his hair was past his shoulders, and probably longer except for the fact that it was incredibly tangled, the poor excuse for facial hair made him look at least ten years older, his clothes were caked with dirt and full of rudimentary patches, there was dirt beneath what remained of his nails (apparently Gavin was a nail biter).

“I’ll uh…I’ll find him some clothes…they’ll probably be way too big, but it’ll have to do…” Michael tried to push the image of another man wearing his clothing from his mind. Lindsay set to looking for scissors and a comb to tame the hair on the feral boy’s head.

Just as Michael was rummaging through his (still packed) suitcase, he heard a shriek followed by the sound of things falling to the bathroom floor. He quickly returned to the origin of the noise and found Gavin had climbed onto the sink and was pressed flush against the wall, one hand holding his head, “Micoo!” he whined. Lindsay was sitting on the lid of the toilet with a small clump of hair in one hand, and a comb in the other.

“What the hell happened?”

“I couldn’t get the tangles out of his hair because he was squirming too much, so I just ripped one out…” Lindsay smirked pitifully.

“Gavin, get down. She won’t pull anymore out,” Michael hoped she wouldn’t, anyway, “Let me see the comb.” Slowly Gavin climbed down off the sink and approached Michael, who began to carefully run the comb through the long, tangled hair before him. When he met a difficult tangle, he simply cut it off. The end result was a shorter, more manageable style…even if every strand seemed to have a different length. Some of them stuck up on top of his head, others stuck out over his ears.

With a step back, Michael admired his handy work, expecting Gavin to look ridiculous with his new haircut seeing as the New Jerseyan was hardly one to be consulted about neat haircuts. Much to his surprise, it didn’t look half bad.

“Well, what do you think?” Michael swallowed hard and redirected his attention to cleaning up the hair on the floor—now was not the time to be exploring his sexuality. After a few runs through with his fingers, Gavin smiled into the mirror, “It’s top!”

“What?”

“Top! Tippy toppers, Micoo,” he grinned and continued to run his fingers through it, causing it to stick up even more. Michael turned his attention to Lindsay, who just shrugged and chuckled lightly.

“Right, now for your face…” Michael sighed, not looking forward to the reaction he might get when he attempts to shave the peach fuzz from his new friend’s chin.

“My what?” Gavin clasped at his face, trying to figure out what was causing Michael to be concerned with it.

“Your beard…or whatever you want to call that. It has to go, and since I don’t trust you enough not to somehow slit your own throat, I suppose I’m going to have to do it for you,” Michael fished out the trimmers and clicked them to life, earning a squeak from Gavin.

“You’re gonna have to chill the fuck out, man. We’re not gonna hurt you anymore than we have to,” Michael said, raising the clippers to his own chin to graze the surface, “See? Now sit still,” Gavin sat on the sink as Michael ran the trimmers over his cheeks. Green eyes followed brown ones intently, creating a tremendous distraction from the task at hand.

It didn’t take long to get the poor excuse for a beard off of Gavin’s face, but the difference was still remarkable. He now looked closer to Michael’s age rather than his father’s…and his attractiveness factor was steadily climbing. Michael cursed silently; afraid that after his shower Gavin would appear from the bathroom with a heavenly glow about him and immediately crush his previous confidence in being strictly heterosexual.

“Alright, shower time. You’ve gotta do that on your own,” Michael said, though he still found himself preparing the water for Gavin, just in case he scalded himself on the touchy mechanics of Ray’s high tech shower. Lindsay leaned back against the door frame watching Michael, “And here I thought I was first in line for your affections,” she jeered with a small smile.

“I-what? No. No. It’s not what it looks like, I’m just being nice to the fucker,” Michael stuttered. Was that true? He wanted it to be: nothing but hospitality for a poor soul that hadn’t had the opportunity to become acquainted with normal people.  Lindsay just gave him a look that pretended to believe him.

“Remember you have to shower with your clothes off,” Michael clapped Gavin on the shoulder.

“I know that Micoo. What do you think I am, daft or something?”  Gavin said, removing his grimy shirt and tossing it to the floor. Michael caught a glimpse of the trails of hair that crept their way up his stomach and quickly averted his glance to Lindsay, who of course, noticed his lingering glance.

“Not a word,” Michael said between clenched teeth. She just threw her hands up in mock surrender and led the way out the door.

Ray was still warming his spot on the couch, playing an incredibly out-dated version of Call of Duty—or at least from what Michael could tell. The last few (six) games had looked practically identical.

“You still play those shit games?” Michael asked, sinking down onto the couch next to him. Ray shot him a glare and managed a headshot without even looking at the screen. Michael retracted into himself a bit and laughed.

“Got two more controllers? Lindsay and I will tag team your ass into submission,” he remarked, motioning Lindsay to join them on the couch. 


	17. Chapter 17

“Fuck! Lindsay! Behind— FUCK,” Michael yowled for probably the fiftieth time. They had been playing for at least an hour, completely oblivious to the fourth guest that was still in the bathroom. Finally, Michael had had enough. He leaned back to watch Lindsay get annihilated again, and then it clicked.

“Oh fuck, Gavin!” he sprung up from the couch and darted to the bathroom and threw open the door. Inside Gavin was lying in the bottom of the tub while warm water drummed over his skin, a pool of blood flowing down the drain.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit,” Michael smashed all the buttons on the shower before finally finding the off switch. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around the unconscious body and hoisted it out, thankful Gavin didn’t weigh much more than a sack of potatoes.

“Ray! Do you have…fuck…anything in this fucking place?” he yelled, rummaging through the cabinets over the sink looking for gauze, Band-Aids, anything. Unable to find anything, he ran his hands over Gavin’s body, looking for where the blood was coming from. A giant red stain on the towel gave it away. Pulling that aside, he found a rather large gash on the Brit’s hip. It wasn’t dangerously deep, but it was producing quite a bit of blood, and looked a bit gnarly. He hoped it wasn’t infected.

“Ray, god dammit you son of a bitch!” he called again, and this time Lindsay and Ray both came running.

“What the fuck are you yelli—Oh. Ohh. Oh shit. Um,” Ray clamoured for the cabinets above the sink to no avail; apparently he wasn’t aware how empty the apartment was. Lindsay stood frozen in the doorway, looking a bit helpless. Then her brain finally appeared to catch up to the events and she knelt down next to Gavin.

“How bad is it?” she seemed to be paying more attention to Michael than to Gavin.

“I-I don’t know—why are you looking at me? He’s the one bleeding all over,” Michael snapped.

“Give me your belt—we need to put pressure on it, since we don’t know how deep it is…just to be safe,” she was reaching for Michael’s belt herself, when he stopped her. Now was not the time for an inappropriate boner.

“I got it,” he fastened it around Gavin’s waist, pinning the towel to the wound. “We should probably get him to the hospital or something. I don’t know if the shit’s infected or not,” as Michael gently hoisted him into his arms, he noticed how peaceful Gavin looked when he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. It was a kind of peaceful that made your head thick and your stomach churn.

“Wait! His hands—he doesn’t have any tattoos…man he wasn’t kidding about living in a village then,” Lindsay muttered, turning his hands in hers, “We can’t take him in without them, they’ll report him.”

Michael felt a pain in his chest as he realised she was right. It was practically unheard of for someone to elude the system, but when they did, they were taken into custody by the government, and most weren’t heard from again. And that was for citizens of the US, he couldn’t bear to think of what they would do to someone that wasn’t even supposed to be here.

Thankfully, Michael was a criminal genius. Or so he liked to believe. He carried Gavin to the couch and gently placed him, taking his hands in his. “Ray, tell me you at least have a blue pen somewhere,” he entwined the boy’s fingers with his so that their knuckles lined up right. Ray appeared with a pen that was a surprisingly good match to the ink on their knuckles. Thus Michael began to work his magic—he had redrawn his own tattoos multiple times out of boredom, so recreating the mirror of them onto someone else’s hands was quite easy. When he’d finished he looked to Ray and Lindsay for approval, “Well?”

“That’s adorable. You made him your soul mate,” Ray cooed and pretended to be overcome with warm fuzzies.

Michael tried to disguise the redness welling in his cheeks as anger, “Shut the fuck up man. It might save his life, and I don’t see you two with a better plan,” he untangled his fingers and stood up to cradle Gavin once again.

“You two are so cute!” Ray squealed taking the opportunity to poke fun since Michael wouldn’t risk dropping Gavin.

For the first time since he arrived, Michael was thankful the taxis were piloted by drones—that meant fewer questions to answer until he got to the hospital.

“So what are you going to tell them? That he fell in the shower?” Ray queried softly, in case they weren’t as unmonitored as they wanted to believe. The taxi jolted into motion and seemed to be travelling far faster than normal.

“Holy shit dude, do they have an emergency option or what?” Michael held Gavin closer to keep him from jostling around and losing the towel that was harbouring his manhood.

“Yeah, actually. Ten bucks extra, but what the hell? Literal yolo,” Ray smirked.

“As opposed to the usual metaphoric yolo?” Michael asked shaking his head, laughing quietly.

Arriving at the hospital, Michael used a brisk pace to haul a still unconscious Gavin into the waiting room where the desk assistant stood up, her eyes wide.

“We need to see someone right now—male, sixteen years old, gash on left hip, possible concussion,” Lindsay belted out causing both attending males to stop in their tracks and look at her, mouths agape, “What? I took a few anatomy classes.” The desk staff just blinked at Lindsay, but obeyed her orders. For as cute as she was, Lindsay could be deadly intimidating when she wanted to be.

It wasn’t long before a stretcher was wheeled out and Gavin was laid in it. Michael made sure to keep his fingers locked with Gavin’s so that the nurses would see that the two of them were together, thus allowing Michael to accompany.

“Name and age,” a tall, older doctor said—presumably the head of the team which had been sent to retrieve the unconscious boy.

“Sixteen,” Michael started, hoping he wasn’t too far off, “Gavin Free,” the other two snapped their heads in Michael’s direction, and he tried to hide his smug grin. He felt incredibly clever for the name he had chosen for the boy that was free of the system, free of the worry that came with life, free of stressing over a soul mate. Gavin Free.

“Well we’re going to take Gavin into a room and get him hooked up on fluids and see about tending to this wound. Meanwhile, we need you to fill out the appropriate paperwork,” the older doctor began and made off with his newly acquired patient before Michael could protest.

So, Michael approached the desk and requested the stack of paperwork.

“Gavin Free?” Ray whispered as they sat in the back corner of the waiting room.

“Well, I had to come up with something,” Michael snapped, looking over the various forms he had on a clipboard.

“I think it’s pretty damn clever,” Lindsay piped up.

“Thank you, Lindsay,” Michael glared at Ray, “Now we’re gonna need to be even cleverer if we want to make this shit convincing,” he eyed the medical history portions of the forms. Michael had scarcely filled in Gavin’s new name when he heard a gurgling screech come from down the hall. Immediately he shot up and raced towards the noise, ignoring the hospital personnel’s attempts at stopping him.

So many doors, why must there be so many doors? Michael pushed open three of them frantically; “Mr Free we’re going to have to ask you to calm down and return to your room!” said a woman sternly as a lanky man tumbled down the hallway in nothing but a hospital gown. Apparently Gavin had awoken, and was not pleased by his new surroundings.

His eyes met Michael’s and he scrambled the last few feet to hide behind him, “Micoo!” he shrieked, shaking violently, “Micool where are we? I woke up and I was naked and that lady was trying to stab me and—“ he buried his face in Michael’s back as the nurse came closer.

“Mr Free, we need you to return to your room, you are injured and may have a concussion,” the lady said, still stern, but much more affectionate than before.

“Micool, who is Mr Free? Why does she keep calling me that?” the voice vibrated against Michael’s back, sending chills coursing through his body.

“Look lady, he’s terrified of doctors…if you could just give me a moment to calm him down?” Michael tried his hardest to give her a doe eyed look that would convince her to let them have their brief privacy.

Whatever look he managed to have seemed to work as she nodded apologetically and turned back to the room. Michael turned to face Gavin, who was still trembling.

“Look, Gav. We need to get you better. You fucking passed out in the shower, something might be really wrong,” the gentleness of his voice surprised him, as he never would have imagined it coming from his mouth.

Gavin just looked up at him, “I’m fine Micool, just all the blood…I got woozy,” even the thought seemed to make his knees go a bit weak—thankfully Michael was there to support his weight if he did pass out again. Holding his hands in his, Michael noticed that in the event of Gavin’s escape, his pseudo-tattoos had smudged a considerable amount.

It also seemed that the hospital had discovered there was no Gavin Free logged in the systems, as the same nurse that had terrorised Gavin was on a phone talking animatedly and pointing in their direction.

“Well, looks like it’s time to go!” Michael grabbed Gavin by the hand and darted for the door, waving Lindsay and Ray along hurriedly. Medical personnel once again tried to intervene, but Michael was too clever for them. Safely they made it back to the street where a taxi was already waiting.

“Dude?” Michael said as they settled in their seats, “Did you already have a taxi waiting?”

“You underestimate me, Michael,” Ray grinned as they headed back to the apartment.

Needless to say, they would be avoiding doctor’s visits for as long as they could manage.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo~ I'm still alive!   
> I'm hoping to pick back up on more frequent updates now that personal affairs are finally beginning to smooth over.

Back at the apartment, Michael took it upon himself to learn how to treat Gavin’s minor wounds and check for a concussion—what he would do if the symptoms showed up, he had no idea.

“The fuck did you do, anyway?” Michael said, pressing a large gauze pad to Gavin’s hip, causing the man to wince.

He also demanded that Ray stock up on medical supplies for future mishaps.

“Wait, woah. That would mean we’re keeping him,” Ray interrupted.

“Of course we are. Well, as long as he wants to stay…” Michael turned his attention to Gavin who was still chasing the balls of light left behind from being checked for a concussion. Michael smiled weakly at the man’s idiocy.

Gavin looked to him and grinned widely, “I’d love to! I’ll just have to go back to tell my mate where I’ll be for a bit!” Michael’s heart sunk more than he would ever be willing to admit.

“Your…mate?” He was pleased to hear his voice remain steady.

“Yeah! Dan! You’d like him,” Gavin obviously didn’t see the problem here.

“But shouldn’t you…stay with…him?” Michael squeaked a bit, for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Lindsay and Ray exchanged glances, but it was Lindsay that piped up, “I think they mentioned something about this in the ICE course I took…” ignoring the puzzled glances she was receiving, she finally retrieved the information she was fishing for. “Yeah. Apparently in other places, mate has a different connotation beyond what we’re familiar with—the soul mate. Mates are basically just best friends,” she grinned smugly, proud of herself for being able to recall it accurately.

Michael let out a breath and calmed a bit; so Dan was just Gavin’s best friend. Why was he getting so worked up in the first place?

“Won’t he miss you?” Michael attempted to retort.

“Once he meets you, he’ll know why I’m staying!” Gavin grinned widely. He was so innocent, and for a split second, Michael wanted nothing other than to corrupt him. He couldn’t believe the thoughts he was having. He quickly blinked his mind clear and coughed a bit.

“Maybe we should wait until next week or something, I mean we did just kind of convince you to talk,” Michael said hurriedly, lest Gavin insist they go break the news right now. Gavin’s face fell almost immediately.

“Oh,” he said lowly, but immediately resumed his normal happy demeanour, “Okay!” he grinned and swung his feet around to the floor, but quickly regretted that decision. The tight feeling in the re-scabbing wound on his hip caused him to feel a bit nauseous and he slumped back onto the cushion.

“Slow the fuck down, man. If you squirm around you’re gonna mess up the scab and it’ll never heal,” Michael gently pressed the man back onto the couch, instinctively checking the bandage to make sure it was still adhered to his skin.

“You sure turned into a mother duck, Michael,” Lindsay jeered quietly, causing heat to swirl beneath Michael’s cheeks. He naturally feigned anger to hide the lesser of two evils.

“It’s not my fault you two aren’t helping! Someone has to make sure he doesn’t fuck up more!” The words stung his tongue; he didn’t like insulting Gavin without need. His eyes darted to the goofy patient he had on the sofa, though the man’s eyes wouldn’t meet his. Shit.

“I mean, I just—,” Michael sighed, giving up trying to back pedal to cover up his previous stab at Gavin. Frustrated, he stood up and brushed off his jeans, despite there being anything on them.

“I need a drink,” he muttered, and made way for the door before anyone could protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Michael in denial. 
> 
> ~~Not sorry~~


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Many. Plot. Holes.

Much to Michael’s relief, the bar wasn’t very busy—apparently not many people drink on weekdays. Not that it mattered much to him; he was going to throw back a few shots regardless of the number of people around him. It was moments like this that he wished Ray kept liquor at the apartment; it was far cheaper.

Sitting down at the bar, he nodded at the bartender ordering a couple shots of whisky and a coke. He wasn’t sure why he was so stressed out, just that he was. Quickly he downed the shots and almost immediately felt better. The cloud in his brain was just enough to block out the idiot that lay on his couch with a gaping hole in his hip.

Alright, so maybe not a gaping hole, but it might become that if Ray and Lindsay don’t keep him from squirming around. Or if his existence continues to make Michael question his entire life.

He slammed his shot glass down with a bit more force than he had intended, causing the bartender to give him a warning look. He grumbled, “Sorry,” and scooted it away from him before he felt the urge to chuck it at a wall. Michael knew he was acting irrationally, but he couldn’t make himself calm down. Something about that man infuriated him; infatuated him; interested him.

Michael was used to the usual emotions: hungry, horny, angry, happy. The works. Now he had these ambiguous emotions smashing around in his skull with no logical point of origin. His life had just become a giant grey area all at once.

“Rough day?” a crisp voice called out, and Michael looked up; apparently the bartender had decided to take an interest in him, seeing as he was the only angry one at the bar—actually, he was the only one at the bar.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Michael stared into his empty shot glass, which soon became full again.

“You look like you need it more than we do,” Michael looked over his glasses at him, noticing what a gorgeous shade of green his eyes were— _Fucking christ, Michael. What’s gotten into you?_

“Thanks,” he muttered, threw it back, slammed a tip on the counter, and made his way to the door.

He decided against a cab this time—hopefully a long walk home would help him clear his mind…or it would fog it to the point that he would jump Gavin as soon as he got home and mark what he so declared as his. He shivered at the thought.

Remaining stationary at the bar hadn’t allowed him to process the amount of alcohol that was currently in his system; he wasn’t a lightweight by any means, but four shots of whisky was enough to make him stagger a bit. He focussed on keeping his cool and his feet even on the ground, which drew the attention away from what await him at the apartment. Of course, Michael had no problem with that. He had thought about the man for days on end, fifteen minutes of nothing but _left, right, left, right, left_ was peaceful.

But, as he had learned from a young age, all good things come to an end, thus as he stumbled past the threshold of the apartment, he almost immediately walked back out. The reminder of why he had gone out to drink was currently sitting perched on the couch between Ray and Lindsay with an Xbox controller. The sound of gunfire had drowned out his re-entry, which he used to his advantage. He stealthily sat in his usual armchair as a sly smile spread across his face. He wondered how long it would take the trio to notice he had returned.

After five minutes of remaining unnoticed, he finally piped up, “Gavin, behind you!” he shrieked, causing all three of them to practically trade skins with one another. Gavin squawked and flung the controller, which collided with Ray’s shoulder, while Lindsay had become rigid and was scanning for the origin of the disruption.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Michael,” Ray said, sending RU to collect the battery from Gavin’s ejected controller. Michael had almost forgotten about the little bastard—Ray had made a point to keep a majority of his drones out of sight due to Michael’s overwhelming adoration for them. Or at least that’s what Michael hoped he was doing with them.

“If I had been a murderer, you three would have been dead five minutes ago,” Michael sunk into the chair with a satisfied smirk.

“I’m surprised you stayed quiet for that long,”

“I can be,” Michael started, glancing up at the television, “So is Gavin beating your ass at Call of Duty yet or what?” Ray just laughed, handing the controller back to a frazzled Gavin, who then attempted to continue playing from the pause screen. It was a bit like watching an ape learn to use a stick to fork out termites for the first time—lots of awkward hand positions and inhuman screeches.

“What’s it doing?!” he jammed his fingers down on all the buttons of the controller.

“It’s paused, you idiot,” Michael laughed, reaching for another controller from the shelf in the middle compartment of the couch. Ray always seemed to be prepared for more company than he ever received at one time. As he joined the game, he was greeted with the current scoreboard.

“God damn, Gavin! The point of the game is to kill _other_ people!” He grimaced at Gavin’s zero to twenty three score. Make that twenty four, as Michael easily lobbed a grenade into the man’s area, blowing his character into a wall.

“Michael!” Gavin squeaked, still trying to process what had gone wrong.

“That’s a grenade; they’re bad,” Michael chucked another at him. This time Gavin scurried a bit before it subsequently blew him up, not silently of course. Then the unexpected happened, as Gavin discovered the grenade button.

“Oh, fuck shit, fuck! Gavin no!” Michael noticed it bounce into view a bit too late. He was welcomed by a respawn timer, “You fuckin’ blew me up!” the whisky in his veins made his laughter more vibrant than usual.

“I did what? Are you hurt?!” Gavin squeaked, looking as if he were attempting to crawl into himself.

“No, you moron, on the game! You shoved a freakin’ grenade up my asshole!” his laughter had spread to the other two as Gavin struggled to figure out how that could possibly be a good thing.

“Is that good?” he was holding his controller loosely in disbelief.

“It’s your first kill! That’s the point of the game, Gavvers,” Michael smiled lightly at Gavin’s innocence towards the subject.

“But I don’t want to blow you up,” Gavin said, his voice tight and incredibly small.

“He just wants to blow you,” Ray piped up, looking pleased with his quick wit.

“Shut the fuck up, Ray,” Michael said, shoving a dagger into the skull of Ray’s character—who was apparently cooking a grenade, because the two of them were quickly flung across the screen and into a respawn timer.

“You did it, Michael!” Gavin cheered, sitting up a bit straighter.

“You have _a lot_ to learn, Gav,” Michael chuckled, relaxing into his seat, stealing a glance at the suddenly excited man.

“Are you going to teach me then?” Michael choked a bit on the unexpected question—it was obvious Ray was the better of them at kill streaks and he obviously hadn’t learned anything from him.

“I—uh, yeah, sure. Why not?” He blinked a few times, trying to ignore Ray as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him whilst Lindsay burst into a quiet giggling fit.

“I fucking hate you guys,” Michael said half-jokingly.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter with some lovely domestic fluff because I live for that stuff.

After a few hours of attempting to teach Gavin how to properly murder without feeling guilty, Michael apparently passed out on the sofa. Of course, he had no recollection of doing so—especially not with Gavin cuddled up to his side. The fact that a blanket had been draped over the two of them meant he had fallen asleep before Ray and/or Lindsay, which also meant there would be lots of elbowed ribs and giggling on his behalf.

But for now, Michael couldn’t help himself. He glanced around looking for anyone who may make snide comments, and when none were to be found he wrapped an arm around Gavin’s sleeping figure. Well, this was new. He had cuddled his fair share of pillows and the occasional girlfriend, but none of them had fit so well to the contours of his body as Gavin was doing right now. Without thinking, he gently brushed a couple wild strands of hair off the sleeping lad’s forehead.

Not the best idea Michael could admit to ever having, as it Gavin’s eyes flew open and blinked rapidly up at him. Then the squawking began. And the flailing. Michael almost couldn’t scramble to the floor fast enough before Gavin incapacitated him.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Ray come bounding into the sitting room, a droid on his heels that was beeping  frantically, apparently awoken by Ray’s sudden movements through the house. He muttered something to it and scanned his hand across its thorax—anti-burglary drone perhaps? Michael wasn’t sure, all he knew what that Gavin was now huddled in the space where the couch almost touched the back wall and his rib cage throbbed a bit.

“There was a…spider,” Michael said sluggishly, he wasn’t going to admit having cuddled Gavin all night.

“Sorry Micool,” a small voice called from behind the couch.

“Christ,” Ray rubbed his eyes, his shoulders slumping now that any immediate danger had been registered as a false alarm, “You spend all most of your day playing horror games and getting head-shots, but a spider is what makes you lose your shit?”

“Wasn’t me, it was him,” Michael nodded his head in Gavin’s direction.

Ray just grumbled and dismissed his drone, turning on his heel to return to his cocoon of blankets, “Go back to sleep, RU will take care of the spiders or something.”

Slowly Michael climbed into an armchair and stared at the dark spot behind the couch, “Are you gonna come out, or you want to sleep in a corner?”  To which Gavin slinked his way onto the couch with grace equivalent to a cat, if said cat were afraid of its own shadow. A gut wrenching silence followed suit.

“Well, I’m going to go sleep in my bed,” Michael finally said, clapping his hands on his knees and standing up. He felt bad for leaving him unattended, but what was he supposed to do?  Invite him to his room, tuck him in, and read him a story? Not likely.

Michael sunk heavily onto his bed, his guilty conscious pressing him further into the mattress as it loomed unwelcomed over his shoulders. Just enough drowsiness lingered to allow him to easily fall back asleep with the image of Gavin curled up to his side burned into his memory.

 

~*~

Michael awoke again to his ribcage throbbing, though as he pried his eyes open he realised it wasn’t from sleeping wrong—it was, once again, the slim body of his newest housemate. Unwilling to risk another incident, Michael dramatically rolled over off the bed, “God dammit, Gavin. What the fuck are you doing in here?” his anger wasn’t well adapted for moments after waking up.

As expected, Gavin flailed about, squeaked and then rushed to cower in the corner of the room, “Micool! I’m sorry, I really am; I couldn’t sleep because my hip and you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you up, and there’s weird noises coming from Ray’s room—and I’m sorry, I am!” the words came almost too fast for Michael to keep up with.

“Dude, slow the fuck down,” Michael grumbled, causing Gavin to wince and attempt to retreat further into his corner, “and you don’t have to run off every time something scares the shit out of you—I’m not going to hit you or anything, jeez,” he ran a hand through his curls and slumped back onto the bed. Apparently Michael sounded sincere enough that Gavin crawled back up on the bed. He attempted to hide the fact that he was clutching his side in pain.

“Let me see,” Michael slowly approached and attempted to examine the wound.

“Don’t touch it, it hurts!” Gavin whined, pulling away from Michael.

“It’s gonna do a lot more than hurt if it gets infected!” he would later realize he was overreacting just a bit. “Let me see it, I’ll be gentle,” or so he hoped. As easily as he could manage, he pulled back the gauze and, as he suspected, the scab had cracked, interrupting the healing process.

“Come on, let’s get you a clean one,” he motioned towards the living room. As he was reapplying a bandage, Michael realized Gavin hadn’t yelped in pain at all, even when removing the extra sticky medical tape.

“I thought you said it hurt,” he glanced over his glasses at his patient, swabbing antiseptic on the spot with a little more force than necessary. Gavin winced a bit but continued to smile.

“It does,” he said quietly.

“You haven’t so much as made a noise since I offered to take care of it,”

“It doesn’t hurt when you’re doing it,” Gavin’s voice was low and rushed, as if he were embarrassed to admit it. Michael swallowed hard and diverted his attention to precisely placing the gauze over the wound and applying equal amounts of tape to each edge.

“There, ah, it should be easier to sleep now,” he said and cleared his throat, “I’ll be, well, in there,” he motioned over his shoulder to his bedroom. As he was turning to leave, the small voice made itself known again.

“Micool,” it called, “can’t you sleep in here with me? I don’t sleep well alone…” Gavin intently scanned the pattern on the quilt draped around his slim frame. Michael wasn’t sure if he was lying, or if his small village really did have different living situations. Regardless, he couldn’t say no to that face, as much as he hated to admit it.

“Yeah…just, let me get a pillow. And you’re gonna have to stay on the couch this time,” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously and fetched his sleeping things. When he returned, the look on Gavin’s face already looked happier and significantly sleepier. The two of curled up as comfortably as they could, Michael in his armchair and Gavin on the heavily loved sofa.

“Good night, Gav,” Michael said, feeling a bit unsure and a lot like a protective boyfriend slash parent. It was an odd combination that left him feeling warm and fuzzy but also as if he were walking on glass.

“Night Micool,” Gavin burrowed his head into a mass of blankets and Michael clicked off the light.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I changed my URL since I literally only write Rooster Teeth things. Oops.

“GAVIN!” Michael shouted as he awoke. He wasn’t sure why he was still surprised by the man sleeping tightly against him. He was, however, prepared to keep the other from flailing around and knocking one of them out.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he scolded, pinning flailing limbs to the sides of the armchair. How the two of them managed to sleep comfortably for more than ten minutes was beyond Michael’s current comprehension.

“I’m sorry!” Gavin squeaked, finally ceasing to fight against his warm restraints.

“What are you two ye—oh. Oh. I’ll just,” Ray spun on his heel and left almost as quickly as he entered. Michael was on top of Gavin, holding him down by his wrists—it was certainly a scene he wouldn’t be allowed to forget anytime soon.

Embarrassed, Michael removed himself and sat on the furthest end of the sofa, “You can’t keep doing this,” he groaned, glancing at the clock annoyed at being woken up so early—he had to be ready for work in twenty minutes, but still.

“I’m sorr-“

“And stop apologizing, for fucks sake!”

“I’m s—“

Michael shrieked and escaped to his room to freshen up for work, gods knew he needed it. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror. As if toothpaste were a catalyst for philosophical thinking, he began to question what his life had come to.

Three times he had awoken to find Gavin sleeping cosily next to him; three times he had awoken and shoved the man off of him, while part of him wanted to pull him closer. Was he just desperate? Stressed? Incredibly alone? In denial? Experiencing a sexual identity crisis? Before he was able to come to a conclusion, a knock at the door startled him to the point of nearly ramming his toothbrush through his cheek.

“Micool…”

He sighed, “What, Gavin?” rubbing the inside of his mouth.

“I have to take a leak,” Gavin poked his head through the crack in the door.

“What? You know how to use an actual toilet?” Michael jested.

“I just live in a little village Micool, we’re not animals,”

“Could have fooled me—hey! At least let me finish brushing my fuckin’ teeth,” Michael scowled at Gavin, who had already positioned himself in front of the toilet. He quickly finished and scurried out the door to find Ray already waiting for him.

“So, you and Gav,”

“Don’t even start, the fucker keeps sneaking in to sleep with _me_ ,” Michael growled.

“Riiiight,” Ray smirked, “Anyway, what do you think of bringing him to work with us? I already asked Geoff and he said it’s cool.”

“What? Like an office pet?” Michael nearly laughed out loud at the sudden image of putting Gavin in a human-sized hamster ball and letting him scurry around the office.

“Sure, why not? We can’t exactly leave him here alone. I’m pretty sure he’d find a way to literally turn the apartment upside down…that or he’d scare himself into a corner and we wouldn’t be able to find him for a week…”

After a bit of explaining as to what exactly it was Ray and Michael did at work, Gavin happily agreed, especially after Ray promised him he could sit right next to Michael all day.

“Wait, Micool…if they catch me without any brands…” his forehead creased with worry as he glanced at his knuckles

Michael felt a bit sick at the idea of them being brands, as if they were all cattle, “Well,” he began to rummage for his trusty blue pen, “that’s an easy fix. I’ll just draw them on again,” he smiled weakly and awkwardly took Gavin’s hand in his as he set to work. It certainly wasn’t as good as it could have been, but it would have to do.

“Thanks Micool!” Of course Gavin was far happier than he should have been, “they look just like yours, though. Doesn’t that mean…” his eyes quickly met Michael's.

“It means I’m not creative enough to draw new ones—don’t get any ideas,” he snapped with a bit too much venom. The life practically drained from Gavin’s face and implanted itself in the form of guilt in Michael’s stomach.

“It’s just…easier to replicate and…okay?” he tried to choose his words carefully, but the betrayal remained on the poor lad’s face.

“Harsh,” Ray muttered, “Alright…let’s get going before you two break out into a musical reprisal.”

“You don’t even know what that means,”

“Sure I do. I’ve watched some old musicals,” Ray started sauntering and snapping his fingers as they approached the elevator and did a pseudo-ballet leap beyond the doors.

“What the fuck are you even doing?”

“West Side Story; don’t tell me you haven’t seen it,” Ray shifted his attention to Gavin, hoping for some back up, “oh, come on, you neither?”

“Dude, that movie is over 100 years old. Of course I haven’t fuckin’ seen it. I haven’t even seen last month’s box office movies,” Michael laughed, pressing the ground floor option. Ray sighed and continued humming the musical score from his out-dated movie. It wasn’t long until a second voice joined in, but it sure as hell wasn’t Michael’s.

“I feel pretty,” Gavin said in his usual tone, “oh, so pretty,”

“That’s nice, Gav,” Michael crinkled his brow in confusion at the sudden outburst of self-awareness.

“I feel pretty and witty,” Gavin’s voice increased in volume as the lyrics made themselves obvious, “and _gay_ ,” he made the word powerful and focused it completely on Michael, who swallowed hard and blinked rapidly. Ray, on the other hand, was buckled over in laughter as he raised his hand to high-five Gavin.

When he was left hanging, he simply completed it himself, “That was fucking incredible, Gav,” he wiped away an imaginary tear and clapped the sandy-haired lad on the shoulder, “You can stay in my apartment as long as you want.”

Did Gavin’s high-note break the air-conditioning, or did it just become really hard to breathe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that happened.


	22. Chapter 22

The ride to work was a lot more painful than necessary. Gavin’s musical number broke out around the forty second floor, which meant the trio were stuck awkwardly in a box for another minute and a half. It felt like an eternity and the air was getting thin. Or maybe it was just the air around Michael, because Ray was certainly finding it easy enough to giggle every time he looked at Michael.

Michael should have known better than to think he would find peace as they arrived at the office. Ray had to tell each of their co-workers the story, because they were all conveniently located in separate rooms.

“So this is Michael’s new boy toy, eh?” Geoff pestered, chuckling warmly. It didn’t seem to bother Gavin much; in fact, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the attention as well as the implications that he and Michael were an item. Michael on the other hand, couldn’t crawl inwards on himself far enough.

He sat at his desk and attempted to fully immerse himself in his work, but found himself mainly staring at his grumpy reflection in the dark parts of the screen. He tried multiple methods of persuading himself that the incident meant nothing. It was all in good fun; just some lyrics to a stupid musical that he would never see; gay meant happy some-odd years ago right? Gavin was a happy guy. That’s probably all it was, right?

Something at the back of Michael’s mind continued to shout otherwise, and it was making him nauseous. After saving his work, he briskly left his desk, eyes on the ground and avoiding contact with his friends. Ray was currently retelling the story for the third time with Ryan being the last to arrive, which meant they were all interested in what he had to say and not that Michael was looking a bit green. Gavin had been introduced to Minecraft and would probably be engrossed for a few hours at least. So it was safe to say Michael made a very stealthy exit as he b-lined for the bathroom.

The water from the tap wasn’t very cold, but it would have to do. He splashed it around his neck and onto his face, then glanced at himself in the mirror and laughed pitifully. Was this really happening? Was he _really_ getting _this_ flustered over a man that a) lived off the grid b) he just met c) was a constant reminder that Michael Vincent Jones may indeed, be not so very straight after all?

“Micool?” a soft voice called from a crack in the door. He should really start locking doors behind him.

“What, Gav?” he sighed and slumped over the sink.

“Are you okay?” Michael laughed, should he lie or let his mouth bubble over with the flood of emotions his brain was conjuring up?

“I’m fine,” well, shit. Since when did lying taste so horrible?

“You’re lying,” Gavin said from behind him, startling him a bit. Michael spun on his heel and gave the other the widest, sincerest grin he could manage without his face cracking.

“Nah, I’m good,” his heart ached.

“Well…Geoffrey asked me to fetch you. They’re starting a new…thing? And they want me to be in it,” Gavin stared at the floor and shifted his weight shyly from side to side.

“Alright, well let’s go!” Michael clapped him on the shoulder and tried to put a bit of bounce in his step to draw away from the internal conflict that was trying desperately to betray his hardened exterior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'm not straying too far off course. I have the tendency to write chapters at 2 AM.


	23. Chapter 23

As it turns out, Geoff had been watching Gavin play Minecraft and it ignited the bright idea that they should all play it together and record it. As if they weren’t already busy enough with games. But, hey, Michael wasn’t about to complain about having to play video games all day and get paid to do it.

Oddly enough, Gavin was the one with the most experience; Geoff following close behind…the rest of the bunch hadn’t so much as touched the game with a ten-foot pole despite it having been installed on the computers for months. So, when they all launched, they had no clue whatsoever as to what should be done.

An hour later, Michael had successfully dug a hole, Jack had built stairs, Ryan befriended a cow, Geoff encountered one of each enemy simultaneously, Ray planted roses on _everything_ , and somehow Gavin had successfully built a shelter and a crafting table and was handing out goodies. Michael wondered if the fact that this was basically _real life_ to Gavin had anything to do with his ability to play it well.

“You know, Gavin, we could use another body in the office,” Geoff said during a sudden break in conversation. Michael glanced to the empty desk next to him and smiled a bit, imagining coming into work every day with Gavin sitting beside him.

“Oh, I couldn’t. I really should get back home…”Gavin muttered, as if home were miles away, “I was actually going to head off tonight…you should come with, Micool!” The idea of Gavin leaving was one pain in his stomach, but meeting the people he lived with was another.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Gav. Won’t that freak your folks out?”

“Nahhh! It’ll be top,” Gavin grinned and continued mining his way through a cavern that literally no one could find.

“If you say so,” Michael muttered, continuing to dig through the floor of his location. Then suddenly it opened up into a giant cavern that was completely void of light, “ _Fuuuuuck_. Guys, I fell in a fucking hole…”

“Then dig out,” Jack said, as if he hadn’t already considered that.

“With what?! I’ve been punching the fuckin’ ground this whole time!” so he continued his technique and began his quest of becoming more and more lost underground.

“Build back up to the surface!” Ryan suggested.

“I have thirty-two blocks of dirt and I’m at the center of the fucking earth,” Michael grumbled.

“Sounds like you’re fucked, then,” Ryan said smugly.

“How do you play Minecraft for an hour and end up with only thirty two blocks of dirt?” Geoff asked, laughing quietly to himself.

“Fuck if I know!” he was now sitting in a dark hole and odd noises were coming from all sides, “Great. Now I’m going to die. Well at least it’ll get me back to the surface…”

Suddenly light flooded into his cavern and Gavin’s character emerged, “Hi Micool,” he said quietly.

“Gavin!” Michael exclaimed ceremoniously, “How the fuck did you find me?”

“’Cuz you’re my boy, Micool. I’ll always be able find you,” Michael felt the heat start in his stomach and work its way up to his face. He ducked his head a bit to shield it from the others and busied himself with punching the wall again, subsequently breaking the light source and turning the cavern dark again.

“Oi! Micool, that was my last torch!”

“Sorry!” he stuck it back on the wall, thus illuminating an odd green figure around one of the corners.

“CREEPER!” Gavin shouted and darted towards the monster, smacking it wildly as it hissed in protest.

“Wha—Jesus Christ what the fuck just happened?” the creeper had exploded and sent both of them to their deaths as well into a fit of laughter.

“I think that’s enough for one day,” Geoff said, chuckling and leaning back in his chair, “What say we all go out for some bevs and dinner to welcome Gavin?” Oh, great. That sounded familiar.

“I really should get him back—“

“That sounds great!” Gavin smiled and bounced up and down in his seat, “Don’t worry Micool, my little village isn’t going anywhere. They can do without me for another day,” he was practically beaming as he twirled in his chair.

“Fine, but if some angry people show up at my apartment with pitchforks and torches I’m blaming you,”

“If they can figure out how to use the elevator, you might actually be in trouble,” Ray added, leaning against the door frame.

“So, where are we going tonight, Geoff?” Jack asked, stretching his arms high above him.

“I was thinking maybe…Jersey Mike’s?” Geoff snickered and motioned them all out the door, giving Michael a friendly wallop as he passed, who groaned half-heartedly and followed suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always end up writing in the beginning of the Minecraft Let's Plays...probably because that's when I first fell in love with them all. So, sorry it doesn't exactly line up chronologically, but that's the fun of an AU. <3
> 
>  
> 
> ~~teehehehe I'm dragging this out way too long I'm so sorry hahah~~


	24. Chapter 24

The evening out went well, all things considered. Michael often found Gavin ogling at him from the corner of his eye during conversation, and the lad had insisted on sitting next to him in the booth. On and off during the night, Gavin would press his leg against Michael’s, causing the older of the two to recoil and scoot ever so slightly to the edge of the bench each time. He may have been an outsider, but Gavin was no stranger to flirting, Michael noted. He wasn’t sure why it was so difficult to grasp that the man was indeed a _man_ and not a wild animal that needed to be taught how to sit upright and drink from a cup.

Thankfully, the impromptu get together meant it only lasted long enough for the last of them to finish eating. As they parted ways, Michael noticed Ray attempting to slink off as he had before when Lindsay had been introduced, “Oh no you don’t; your ass is coming with us,” he grasped him firmly around the arm and made his point clear.

“Alright, alright,” Ray said dejectedly, and slumped his shoulders as he realized his stealthy wingman attempt had failed.

Gavin continued to walk incredibly close to Michael, until he was stopped as Michael pulled out his cellphone, “You know what, I haven’t called my mom in ages. You two go ahead, I’ll catch up,” he was only partly lying—he wasn’t sure if he was actually going to call his parents. It had been…how long _had_ it been? Michael felt the guilt at the pit of his stomach which then made the solid decision for him.

Gavin lagged behind a bit until Michael waved him off forcefully. Now he _really_ looked like a kicked puppy. “Don’t give me that look, Gav,” Michael said trying not to look him in the eye. He did, however, meet Ray’s who gave him a nod of understanding, “Come on, Gav, I’ll show you a thing or two in Call of Duty so you can obliterate him later.” That seemed to perk him up just a bit, but he still slowly turned to leave.

Checking the clock, Michael saw that he had about an hour before his mother would leave for work. He dialed the number hastily, but just as quickly hung up. Maybe he should just take a walk? No, he needed to call her; she was probably panicking by now. Once again, he dialed the number but after two rings he hung up again. It shouldn’t be this difficult to call one’s mother. _Third time’s the charm_ , he thought and dialed again, letting it ring fully this time.

“Michael? Oh, hunny!” cried his mother from the other end, “I’ve been so worried about you!” suddenly she was cut off and his father’s voice came through instead, “What your mother means is that you’re an adult now and we have no reason to be worried about you, but a call home every now and then would be nice!” the two of them chuckled lightly as the phone was returned to his mother.

“How are things, dear? I trust you haven’t been living in a box on the street somewhere? Met a nice gal? Or guy? Doing well in scho-”

“Mom, breathe!” he said exasperatedly, “Things are fine. I’m living with a friend I made at…school,” he forced the word out, remembering why he hadn’t called sooner, “I haven’t found my soul mate either,” his voice dropped with sadness as it always did when he had to tell anyone this.

“I’m so happy for you! You’ll find them, don’t worry!” At this point Michael wasn’t even going to bother correcting his mother on his preferred gender, because he wasn’t even entirely sure himself.

“I did want to talk to about it, though…” he said slowly, unsure if he should continue or not.

“Of course! I’ve got all the time in the world,” he voice went distant briefly; he knew she was checking the time.

At first, Michael didn’t know how to start: ‘Hey mom, I think I’m in love with a feral guy that lives in a hut?’ No, too blunt. ‘Hey mom, did I ever mention that girls just aren’t doing it for me?’ No, too much information.

“I may have fallen for someone…” it was short and simple and sweet. What could go wrong from there?

The two of them talked for almost the full hour before he checked his own clock and decided it was time to end the call. His mother had surprisingly offered a surplus of valuable information and moral support. He wasn’t sure why it surprised him that she was supportive of him, and even had advice on sexual identity. Nonetheless, it felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Had he been afraid of being rejected by his family because he didn’t have feelings for a female? That part still wasn’t clear, hell he wasn’t even completely positive he had feelings for Gavin. At least now he knew that if he did, he didn’t need to spin another lie to feed his mother.

“You should call more often, Michael,” she added sadly.

“I love you, Mom. Tell dad for me,” he simply said, hanging his head to study the cracks in the pavement.

With that, Michael decided he would put his doubts behind him and do his best to get to know Gavin. If they were soul mates, apparently something in the universe had deemed it okay to be so, and he couldn't argue with that.


	25. Chapter 25

Michael quickly found out that by just paying slightly more attention to the hyperactive lad, he could learn _a lot_ about him. It was only half past ten and he had already discovered that his favorite color was purple (he insisted on using Ray’s Hawkeye spoon and ate most of the purple Froot Loops first), gagged at the sight of soggy bread (Michael liked a lot of butter on his toast), and preferred the usage of most breakfast food as curses rather than actual meal items.

“Micool, why are you staring at me so much?” Gavin asked that morning through a mouth of cereal.

“Huh? I’m not! Just making sure you don’t choke or some shit,” Michael scoffed and bit into his toast which quickly made Gavin turn away.

“Alright, I’m headed out. I’ve gotta see a man about a drone,” Ray said, clinking his spoon in the bowl. Michael perked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Say hi to her for me, Ray?” he said with a smirk. Ray narrowed his eyes, “You bet, buddy. I might even bring home her sister.”

Gavin cocked his head to the side, looking absolutely confused. Michael snarled his appreciation to Ray who then took his leave.

“What was that about?” Gavin asked, frowning into his bowl; apparently he had run out of cereal.

“Nothin’,” Michael said, chuckling to himself, “So I guess we get the place to ourselves for a while.”

Gavin’s face lit up like a damned Christmas tree at that, which made a warm fuzzy sensation begin to swirl in Michael’s stomach.

“How about we go see your folks today?” Now Gavin was _really_ happy and Michael couldn’t help but smile along. He was so happy that he became incoherent and just squeaked intermittently, but oddly enough Michael was able to translate.

“I’ll go get ready then,” he laughed, running a hand through his messy curls. As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, he over-examined himself, picking vainly at his imperfections. He attempted to tame his hair by combing water through the locks, brushed his teeth extra carefully—then realized what he was doing.

“Pull yourself together, Mogar,” he gripped the sides of the sink, preparing himself for a short pep talk, “It isn’t like you haven’t met some weird people before. You’re not going on a date! You’re just taking Gavin home. Nothing special about that. Calm down!” He had long since gotten over the awkwardness that comes with talking to oneself.

When he finally left the bathroom, he found Gavin partially sitting on the back of the sofa, wearing one of Michael’s shirts and a pair of Ray’s pants that he probably didn’t even know he owned. He also looked just as nervous as Michael felt, which wasn’t helping debunk the idea of the whole “date” thing.

“Well, lead the way, Gav,” Michael finally said, relocating his voice. The elevator ride to the ground floor wasn’t particularly pleasant, as the subtle music playing violently reminded him of what happened last time. Uncomfortable, Michael tried to fill the silence, “So…tell me about your parents?”

Gavin pretended to ignore him. More silence followed until they reached the street and were presented with the conflict of hailing a cab and being questioned (by whom, Michael wouldn’t know) or to just walk the whole way to…wherever…and have an elongated silence fall between them.

Not wanting to risk anything, they chose the latter, and Michael once again tried to get Gavin to talk about his family—he would be meeting them soon and all. Yet again Gavin paid no heed to his words. Becoming a bit frustrated, Michael made one final attempt at conversation, “You do know where you’re going, right?”

Gavin then stopped and faced him, tilting his head to the side. Then a light bulb went off and Gavin spun around with an air of confusion, then began to backtrack, muttering something about how ‘that rock doesn’t look right…has it always been there?’

“Oh, great! I kept you away from home so long you don’t even know your way back,” Michael threw his hands up in exasperation.

Gavin only laughed, “Of course I know my way back home, you donut!” Again with the breakfast food.

After another five minutes of walking they finally arrive…or at that’s what Michael believes, as it looks just unsuspicious enough to be suspicious. Before them stood a large hill covered in vines and tree roots—something incredibly uncommon in the rapidly industrializing world. Checking around them casually, Gavin pushed aside a large mass of thick moss, revealing a sturdy oak door. He then began knocking rhythmically with both hands in the tune that, Michael quickly noticed, resembled the Mario Bros. theme song.

“Your secret knock is the Mario theme?” Michael asked with a coy grin.

“How’d you know that?” Gavin spun around quickly, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“Doesn’t _everyone_ know that?” Everyone back home surely would.

“You’d be surprised…Hey! Let me in, he’s with me!” Gavin pounded his fist on the door again—apparently they had a high security base and were wary of Michael’s presence.

Slowly the door opened and Michael felt an odd sensation of excitement creep up from his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, that took a bit longer than I had originally planned...and I ended with a cliffhanger again. I'm so mean to you guys, and you stick it out! You're literally the best. I hope the long periods of time between chapters aren't too daunting!


	26. Chapter 26

Once they are given clearance past the door and Michael’s eyes adjust to the odd lighting, he realizes that the place is enormous! They are stood in a large circular room that has multiple hallways feeding into it, handfuls of people bustling about. There also seems to be a constant dull chattering, as most of the people they walk past don’t seem to be speaking coherently as they offer their greetings and good wishes to Gavin—or so he assumed by the amount of waving, shoulder patting, and toothy grins.

The hospitality is quickly broken when they enter a well lit room that seems to be a congregational hall for the residents. It only takes a few moments and word of mouth for the entire room to go completely silent as all eyes fall on Michael. He clears his throat awkwardly, looking to Gavin desperately for some reassurance that he isn’t about to be pelted with small objects. Or worse.

Gavin, noticing his discomfort, attempted to offer words of kindness, unaware he had slipped back into his native tongue so to speak.

“Yeah…you’re gonna have to repeat that,” Michael said, shifting his eyes over the crowd.

“I _said_ they aren’t keen on outsiders,” Gavin said, as if it were Michael’s fault he hadn’t understood the first time.

Michael smiled nervously, continuing to keep an eye on his audience, “Really? I couldn’t tell—they’re such friendly folks…” a woman was currently shielding her daughter from view.

“Is he gonna eat us, mummy?” a small boy asked, clearly audible in the silent room. Michael turned to Gavin who was giving him a look of apology, “We…uh, we might tell bedtime stories to the babes about how outsiders eat Brits for breakfast…?” his voice rose in pitch as he spoke, as if he were expecting Michael to throw a punch any second now.

“So I should reinforce the idea and growl menacingly, right?” He teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’d rather you not…” Gavin said lowly, waving his hand at the slowly encroaching men and babbling about in the language Michael still didn’t quite understand.

“…right…so, how do I say ‘I come in peace’ in your language, eh Gavvy?” Michael had backed himself up against a wall; he wasn’t one to turn away from a fight, his highschool teachers could vouch for that, but he also knew when he was outnumbered and the three men at the front of the crowd easily cleared six foot. Michael wasn’t about to get his ass beat in front of his boyfriend…friend boy. Friend that is a boy. Yeah, that’s what he meant.

“You do know we speak English too, right?” Gavin said with an eyeroll.

“That’s not any English I’ve ever heard,” that would have been a great time for a witty jab at Gavin’s accent, but nervousness dusted with panic was keeping his usual banter perched on the back of his tongue. He was going to need a thorough profanity cleansing after this—a round of Call of Duty should do the trick.

Gavin opens his mouth to speak, but the crowd suddenly livens up and separates down the middle. A dark haired man comes striding towards them with an air of authority, his arms crossed over his chest, further accentuating his biceps.

“And where the bloody hell have you been?” He asks in such a way that makes Michael straighten his posture.

“Out.” Gavin says matter-of-factly.

“Right… _out_. You do realize as the newfound chairmen of Little Oxfordshire you’re _supposed_ to be present at _all_ times of the day? No exceptions.” Michael looked expectantly at Gavin, as if he were watching an incredibly slow, incredibly tense tennis game.

“Wait, you’re a _what_? Jesus fucking Christ, no wonder everyone looked like they wanted to kill me. I basically kidnapped their leader?” Michael felt a bit lightheaded as he ran a hand through his curls.

Gavin and the big-scary-guy exchanged glances and Michael straightened up once again, “Wait a fucking second, why the hell can I understand you and not the rest of these pricks—no offense,” he waved his had dismissively at the crowd, “And ‘newfound’? Exactly _how_ ‘newfound’?” Michael was getting frustrated as his questions were going unanswered, even if he had asked them in the span of five seconds. They were expected to deliver!

Finally, the intimidating one clapped Gavin on the shoulder, his grin growing in size, “He’s quick to catch on, B. I know an outsider when I see one, and I just wanted to give little Gav here’s first boyfriend a bit of a scare,” he ruffled Gavin’s hair lovingly.

“I’m not his—what…why…Gavin you better start fuckin’ explaining, or so God help me,” Michael jeered, the poison lacking in his tone. Gavin squawked in submission, trying to slump out of the now headlock he had been placed in.

“Th-this is...dammit Dan, stoppit! This is Dan, my best mate. You remember, right? You thought we were a t—“

“Yeah, yeah I remember, okay?” Michael rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward. “What the hell did he mean by chairman? And Oxfordshire?”

“I was apparently recently appointed chairman…” Gavin muttered, glaring at Dan.

“Again…how recently?”

“About five minutes, it looks like,” the lad mumbled.

“You’re fuckin’ messing with me again, aren’t you?”

Dan nodded happily, “He’s not as dumb as the last one, that’s for sure.”

“Last one—what last one? You said I was the first!” Michael balled his fists; he wasn’t overly fond of being screwed with.

“I thought you said you weren’t his boyfriend? Sudden change of heart, mate?” Dan teased.

“I’m n—shut the fuck up. Just shut up. I don’t like you,” Michael glowered, the tips of his ears turning red.

“It’s alright Micool, Dan’s just being a right prick, aren’t you Dan?” Gavin was finally released from his friend’s grip, which allowed him to move closer to Michael. The proximity did a number on calming down the fire within. Now Michael’s ears were mainly pink due to embarrassment.

“Right you are! How about I show you love birds around, then?” Dan gestured towards the multiple tunnels that were—still—full of people staring.

Deciding to ignore the stab at his sexuality once again, Michael just nodded lagging behind with Gavin as Dan animatedly pointed out spots of interest within the facility. None of which he would remember later.

“So…about that chairman thing?” He couldn’t let it go; did he actually kidnap their leader? Would there be repercussions? And most of all, what kind of idiotic council would elect Gavin as their leader in the first place? Or was there something he didn’t know?

“Oh, Christ, you don’t still believe that rubbish, do you? Who would be dumb enough to make me a leader?” Gavin sputtered. Dan glanced over his shoulder with one of his thick eyebrows quirked—or maybe he always looked like that, Michael hadn’t been paying attention.

“Relationships 101: don’t lie to your partner,” he said, the continued on his tour.

“So you really are a fuckin’ chairman or whatever?”

“No, God no! Dan shut your gob will you?” Michael sighed and made a mental note to keep these two as far away from one another as possible, at least while he was around. Dan listened this time and the rest of the tour involved him gesturing animatedly to various fixtures on the wall without saying a word.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” Michael groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! I can add Dan to the tag list. Sort of, anyway. I don't have a lot to go by on Dan, but judging by his behavior at RTX and whatnot I imagine he's a giant dork (not to mention he's best friends with Gav). So I hope I portrayed him decently and didn't make an ass of myself.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something weird happened while I was typing this and the last like, six, paragraphs got duplicated a billion times. I think I cleared them all out, but if I missed any just let me know and I'll fix it!

It wasn’t long before Dan forgot his promise to keep quiet, “And here is where you lovebirds can enjoy a romantic dinner…and if you come this way you’ll see the…well, I don’t even know what this room is for.”

Michael wondered how far beneath the ground they were and what buildings they were under—the hallways seemed to run on forever! Finally they stopped at a dimly lit cluster of rooms that contained ample amounts of cots, beds, bunk-beds, and something that looked like…a sheet draped over sacks of potatoes? Michael wasn’t about to ask.

“And here are the bedrooms! You can stay in this one,” Dan pointed to one of the more cushiony beds in an otherwise bland room, “Gavin’s room is right across the hall so you can do your thing,” his eyebrows tried to dance off his face.

Blinking a few times, Michael realized what had just been offered and sputtered his refusal, “Oh, no. I can’t stay…here. I’ve got to go home…I’ve got a job and shit.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously—his mother had always said it was impolite to refuse nice gestures.

“Oh! Well, the offer still stands…we don’t exactly get a lot of new citizens,” Dan glanced around at the other rooms, which made Michael realize they were all relatively unoccupied. Their facility had obviously been built with the intentions of a large number of people, and while there were plenty of people present, it was still far from maximum capacity. It also made him realize that Gavin had become rather quiet.

“Gav?” Michael elbowed him gently in the ribs.

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Tippy top.”

“Liar.”

Gavin grumbled, muttering something incoherent under his breath.

“I heard that.”

“Did not.”

“You said ‘That Michael is top! I wish I were as good at Call of Duty as him!’” Michael squawked, doing his best impression of the excitable lad.

“I don’t sound like that!”

“Wot! Tippy toppers! Quit faffin’ about!” His voice grew shriller with each impression.

“Micool…” Gavin cooed, stopping Michael in the middle of another crude echo. He felt a warm spot curl up in his stomach and begin to circulate amongst all his limbs until he felt warm all over. He made a noise of acknowledgement, as he was afraid confessions would tumble out across his tongue if he opened his mouth.

“Stay for dinner?” Gavin looked up at him through his lashes, despite being a bit taller. That was the moment when the fiery boy from New Jersey completely reconsidered his sexuality. A simple look had set his innards on fire and sent him on the covert mission of attempting to lean casually against the wall as his knees threatened to give out.

“We’re having ham and potatoes,” Dan said slyly from his relaxed position against the opposite wall; Michael had completely forgotten he was there.

“I…y-…yeah. Yeah, okay,” good one Michael. A+ for comprehension, “Let me…let me call Ray and tell him I’ll be late coming home?” He waved his neglected cellphone a bit and motioned towards the exit—he doubted he would be able to get signal underground but hadn’t bothered to check. He could use a gulp of fresh air, anyway. Gavin and Dan nodded, then proceeded to chatter in that dialect Michael couldn’t understand.

Finding his way out of the facility was pretty self-explanatory, thankfully. Michael wasn’t exactly able to function cognitively yet. The man in charge of the door was asleep at his post, so Michael let himself out, wedging his foot in the door just in case.

Ray answered the phone after six rings, sounding a bit preoccupied. Quickly, Michael tried to explain the situation without being interrupted by witty banter; the last thing he needed was a reason to make him reconsider.

“If you’re lucky, dinner might not be the only think you’ll be eating tonight,” Ray finally added when Michael finished.

“Shut up,” Michael was on his a-game with insults and witty comebacks tonight.

“Be home by eleven,” Ray teased.

“Yes, mother.”

“And wear a rubber!” He hung up, leaving Michael about to spit fire into the receiver.

As he re-entered the facility, the doorman was grinning rather cheekily at him, “Got a date, do ya?”

Trying to maintain his civility, Michael simply said yes and walked briskly towards the last place he had been. Which turned out to not be the last place he was. Now he was lost. Where had he taken a wrong turn? It’s not like there were many.

“Over here, Michael!” Dan called from the end of the hall. He was thankful for the ever watching eyes of Gavin’s best friend.

Much to Michael’s surprise, the food was actually normal. He had half expected some odd alien cuisine that required chanting and various utensils to eat. When he discovered it was just three large hams and potatoes for days, he was pleased.

“So where do you guys get all this stuff?” He asked with a mouthful of ham (he always forgot his manners at the table).

“Those of us with convincing American accents visit the surface for necessities,” Gavin said, his mouth equally full.

“Are you one of them?”

“God no, I can’t make myself sound dumb enough to be convincing.” They both laughed heartily at that.

That reminded Michael of the first time he noticed Gavin, “What about when we met?”

Gavin shrugged, “I get tired of living underground.”

“Fair point.”

After finishing another helping of potatoes, Michael stretched back against his chair, feeling quite satisfied, “We should probably get going,” he glanced at the clock, paying no attention to the ‘we’ he had included.

“Uh…Micool…” Gavin started, looking a bit conflicted, “I think I’m gonna stay here for a bit?” Suddenly Michael’s stomach went sour.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine. It is your house…place, and all,” Michael absently brushed crumbs from his shirt.

 “I’ll come visit, promise!” Gavin wouldn’t look at him.

“The door’s always open,” Michael said weakly.

“That’s probably not safe…” Dan chimed in, lightening the mood briefly.

“Right. I guess I’ll get going then. Thanks for dinner,” he forced a convincing smile on his face and gently patted Gavin on the shoulder before turning to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much dialogue! Hopefully it isn't overly annoying.


	28. Chapter 28

The walk home was more uncomfortable than Michael could have imagined it would be. Every sound he heard made him think Gavin had changed his mind and was running to catch up to him. It was usually just a squirrel.

That amount of time alone also allowed him to think about what he wanted to do, how he was feeling, what he would tell Ray when he got back.

His feelings took up most of his walk, as he was at the elevator door before he had come to a solid conclusion. Shoulders slumped, he stepped into the elevator for the lonely ride to the top.

Ray greeted him happily when he walked in the door, “Wait…where’s Gavin?” his tone quickly turned to concern as he rose from the couch, ending his kill streak.

“Back home,” Michael said simply, dropping himself into his recliner.

“Home? You mean he didn’t run away?”

“Nah, just out exploring.”

“Well…is he coming back?”

Michael shrugged and reached into the end table to retrieve his Xbox controller. Ray caught on quickly and knew better than to continue asking questions.

Michael quickly rid himself of the grey cloud that had followed him home—getting a few kills on Ray would do that. For hours the two of them lived in their own little world, a world where nothing bad could happen except for maybe the end of a kill streak or falling into a pit of lava. Reality crashed its way back around them when their eyelids began to droop and jokes were interrupted with vicious yawns.

“Should probably call it a night,” Michael sat his controller down on the coffee table, propping his feet next to it. Ray just nodded, powering down the Xbox and returning the television to its home in the wall.

“Introduce me to your new girlfriend tomorrow,” Michael jested lightly, making his way to his bedroom, where he unknowingly would cloak himself in bittersweet memories.

As he lay in his bed, Gavin’s face found its way into the darkness behind his lids. Sleep was heavy around his shoulders, but the vivid images were keeping him hanging onto the waking world. At the back of his mind he was afraid they were the last time he would get to see Gavin.

He would fall asleep thinking of the way Gavin fit perfectly against his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little filler chapter for all the cute fluffy goodness.


	29. Chapter 29

“Good morning, Michael Jones. The time is 7:30 a.m and it’s a Sunday! You have no upcoming appointments,” the alarm clock announced, rousing Michael from a less-than-satisfying sleep.

“Would you like coffee or tea?”

“Michael, it’s time to get up!”

“A coffee with heavy cream and two sugars awaits you in the kitchen!”

Michael hit the snooze button for the sixth time that morning. It was now almost noon and he still didn’t feel like getting out of bed. He had no reason to. There would be no ridiculous British boy with his wheat colored hair sitting at the breakfast table complaining about the lack of purple Froot Loops in his bowl. There would be no squawking from the living room as Ray beat him at Mario Kart for the third time. There would be no breakfast food insults as Michael trudged into the kitchen, his curls disheveled and his pajama pants twisted around his hips.

There was no reason to get up today.

“Get up or I’m sending RU in after you again,” Ray called from the hall.

“I’m not scared of the stupid thing anymore,” Michael said, his face mashed into his pillow. A light mechanical whirring was heard and the clattering of small legs on linoleum caused him to peek at the door where RU was making its way to his bed. He kicked a bundle of clothes off the edge of the bed onto it with a laugh.

“Not so tough under three days of laundry, are you RU?” he rolled onto his back, pulling the blankets up to his neck in further defiance.

“That’s just cruel and unusual punishment,” Ray said, finally entering the room, which he rarely did unless he needed something. He plucked RU from the laundry avalanche, “Come on, dude. Let’s go see Lindsay,” he poked at Michael’s feet.

“Can’t we just stay home today?” Michael groaned.

“Not when you’re like this,” Damn you Ray and your sentiment.

Still not budging, Ray called in the big guns: his new drone, which he had named TINA, hovered into the room. It was a rare prototype Ray had seen advertised, and knew he would find a way to get one. It had no predetermined function and was randomly sentient.

“Up and at ‘em, Michael! I won’t tell you again!” TINA yanked the blankets off Michael, who was rigid with surprise.

“What the _fuck_ is that?” He shrieked, grabbing for the comforter to continue his plans to not leave his bed.

“ _She_ is TINA,” Ray started, earning him an ‘are-you-fucking-kidding-me’ look from Michael, “and she’s that drone I went to get yesterday.” He looked mighty pleased with himself. “She’s the only one of her kind right now…so he has a few bugs,”

“A few bugs my ass!” TINA exclaimed.

“She’s also kind of sentient…I learned that on the way home. She likes to change the radio stations in the taxis.”

Michael was only half-listening, as he was still trying to wrestle his blanket back.

“Get out of bed and I’ll give it back!”

“That defeats the purpose of getting out of bed!”

“Then I guess you won’t get it back.” TINA wadded the blanket under her robotic arm and hovered out of the room.

“You always manage to get the most annoying fucking drones you can find, don’t you?” Michael swung his feet over the side of the bed.

“Yeah…well,” Ray shrugged and left the room as well.

“Whatever. Is my coffee still hot?” He asked no one in particular.

“Your coffee is still on the warmer, Michael!” His overly cheery alarm clock chirped.

“At least you’re a helpful drone,” he grumbled, making his way to the kitchen. The kitchen that was still devoid of a certain someone. His heart felt like it were made of stone, trying to sink him to the bottom of the ocean.

Sipping his coffee, he found that TINA was nowhere to be found, “Where’s the bot?”

“Docking station. I powered her down after she tried to wrap herself up in the blanket,” Ray didn’t seem too pleased.

“Right. So, where are we going?” Michael sipped his coffee patiently.

“Nowhere right now,” Ray was deeply engrossed in a video game. No surprise there.

“So you got me out of bed just to tell me we aren’t going anywhere now?”

“After I beat this level. I’m so close!” A generally unhappy noise emanated from the television, “Dammit! I was, anyway. Let me try one more time…”

Chuckling, Michael relaxed and let Ray do his thing. Hopefully it would take a while and he would forget his suggestion that they leave the house. Closing his eyes, he thought about drifting off to sleep again, but an unusual noise came from the direction of the television again.

“Did you beat it?” He didn’t open his eyes.

“What?” A knee-jerk response from Ray; he wasn’t actually paying attention.

The noise was getting louder still; it sounded like someone shrieking. That definitely wasn’t coming from the Xbox.

Suddenly the elevator pinged and the doors slid open to reveal a lanky man pressed against the wall and squawking wildly. The walls of the elevator had been retracted, and the city glared brightly into the apartment. Michael’s eyes flew open as he nearly leapt off the couch. He crossed the floor to the elevator in three steps.

“Gavin?!”

“Hi Micool,” Gavin said weakly, attempting to stand. The visible ground in the distance made him stumble forward onto the awe-struck redhead.

“What are you doing here?” Michael asked, as if he weren’t allowed to come back, “I mean, so soon?” He cringed at the stupidity in his question as he tried to steady Gavin on his feet.

“I missed you,” Gavin said, giving him that heart stopping look through his lashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! I ran out of drone names and used TINA. I don't have a lot to go off the real Tina's personality, so any likeness is just coincidental. I'm not including her in the tags, since it's not based off of her, per say. Just wanted to clarify!


	30. Chapter 30

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Michael said after a few moments of silence. His go-to phrase when he had nothing else to say. Gavin frowned a little at the unusual welcome. Michael clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder and said lowly, “I’m glad you’re back.” The smile that radiated from the lad could have lit up the entire apartment.

“So are you back for good or what?” Ray piped up over the sound of gunfire.

“I told Dan I’d be visiting for a while. He said it would be good for me,” Gavin shrugged, sauntering forward to reveal a small bag attached to his back.

“What’s in the bag, Gav?” Stupid question, Michael.

“Just…y’know, stuff,” he said shyly.

“That’s so helpful,” Michael shrugged and motioned towards his own bedroom, “Come on. You can stay in my room.” Ray raised his eyebrows in interest, “ _While I sleep on the couch_ ,” he stressed, “We’ll pick up an air mattress and whatever else tomorrow after work, right Ray?”

“Cheaper if you just let him sleep in your bed and use your toothbrush,” Ray muttered just loud enough to be heard. Michael just rolled his eyes.

Gavin was a bit nervous entering, so he just stood in front of the doorway.

“You’re not a vampire or something, are you? Do I have to invite you in?” Michael joked, straightening up the bed, as if it made a difference.

When there was no response Michael glanced up to witness the look of sheer confusion on the Brit’s face, “Nevermind. Come on, you can put your shit in my bathroom. The bottom drawer of the dresser is empty if you wanna load it up,” he gestured with his chin as he fluffed the pillows.

Gavin finally crossed the threshold and set his bag on the bed to begin emptying it: a well-used toothbrush, two thin white t-shirts, and a pair of khaki shorts.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael sighed, seeing the lack of personal belongings, “You can also wear whatever you want out of the dresser,” he ignored the fact that he had never been so nice to someone, not even ex-girlfriends. He’d be damned if they ever wore even his least-favorite hoodie, and here he was, offering to let the man wear his boxers if he so desired.

Gavin smiled warmly at the offer, “Thanks Micool,” he chirped, taking his toothbrush to the bathroom.

“And throw that fuckin’ nasty thing away while you’re at it. We’ll get you a new one,” Michael called after him. The sound of plastic in the waste bin made him smile a bit. Gavin was in the bathroom for quite some time, and thanks to the last incident involving Gavin in the bathroom, Michael quickly went to check on him.

“Alright, Gav?” He peeked his head past the door to find the man just closely examining the various hygiene products on the sink. The sound startled him and he switched on the electric razor he was holding, which then fumbled into the sink like an angry bee. Michael just laughed, “I’ll show you how to use it later.” He noticed how scruffy Gavin was becoming.

“First, take a shower. And don’t fuckin’ fall this time, alright?” Gavin nodded, starting to shed his clothing, “Woah, woah. Hang on, let me get a towel and some clean clothes.”

He returned with a large t-shirt and another pair of Ray’s neglected pants as well as the fluffiest towel he could find. At first he felt a bit uneasy about leaving Gavin alone, but the idea of sitting in the bathroom while he stood naked behind a fogged shower pane made the blood whoosh in his ears. As he closed the door, he heard clothes hit the bathroom floor and the shower begin. _Chill, Michael. He’s an adult, he can do this._

He still sat on the bed until the slim man walked out toweling his hair, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” Gavin grinned, dropping his towel in the laundry basket beside the door. _At least he’s tidy._

“Did you two fuck or what?” Ray jeered as they entered the living room. Michael rolled his eyes and Gavin didn’t seem to be paying attention.

“Let’s go for breakfast,” Michael demanded.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” Ray said, checking the clock on his paused screen.

“So? Breakfast. Someone’s gotta still be serving breakfast,” Michael wanted breakfast food and he was going to get breakfast food.

“Eat some cereal,”

“Gavin’s hungry too,”

“I’ll eat cer—,” Gavin began.

“Nope. You want pancakes and sausages and fuck tons of eggs,” Michael interrupted.

“Right, that changes things,” Ray said, though he didn’t make any attempt to get off the couch.

“Suit yourself, we’re going for breakfast,” Michael grabbed his house key from the hook and slipped his shoes on.

“In your pajamas?” Ray glanced at him over his glasses.

“Right…clothes,” Michael shuffled back to his bedroom for a change of clothes. Gavin waited patiently by the front door.

Jingling the keys happily, he stepped into the elevator while Gavin hesitantly followed, “Isn’t there another way down..?” he said weakly, looking a bit green as he hung onto the railing until his knuckles turned white.

“You’ll get used to it,” Michael chuckled.

After hailing a taxi, Michael retrieved his disused cell phone from his pocket to begin the search for a 24 hour breakfast diner. The most popular search was a place called Kerry’s and the advertisements containing stacks upon stacks of mouthwatering pancakes and bacon were enough to convince Michael Jones. His stomach growled obligingly.

From that point until they pulled in front of the restaurant, the only sound heard was the clicking of the gears in the taxi. Gavin immediately perked up when they stepped out of the vehicle, then it became quite apparent to Michael what was wrong, “You’re not fond of the drones either, are you?” Gavin shook his head quickly, the color returning to his face a bit.

“I fuckin’ hate them. They’re everywhere around here,” Michael said, probably a bit too loud. A couple of security drones covertly focused on him, prepared for any conflict that may arise. Gavin felt a bit more at ease now that he knew he wasn’t just some odd foreigner that wasn’t up to date.

Entering the restaurant, the four and five star ratings Michael had found were evident—the place was packed. It didn’t bother him in the least, but Gavin felt a bit uncomfortable. Almost immediately following the rigidity of Gavin’s figure, Michael kicked himself internally. He was exposing Gavin and risking his discovery. _Think fast, Michael._ He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Gavin, “Put that on, the sleeves should be long enough. I’ll talk for you. Pretend you’re sick or some shit.”

Happily Gavin hugged the jacket tight to him, not even trying to hide the fact that he was enveloping himself in the smell.

“I’ll be right with you dears,” a waitress called from the hustle of patrons, Michael nodded in acknowledgement.

“What do you want to eat?” Michael asked lowly from the corner of his mouth. Gavin gestured with his hands, “Round? No, square? You want waffles?” Gavin nodded with a huge grin on his face. How Michael had deciphered that was a miracle—he was terrible at charades.

“Do you want a booth or table?” The waitress asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Booth, please. And away from the crowd if you can,” Michael said, adding his kindest smile in. Apparently it worked because she looked a bit pink in the cheeks—smitten by the dimples, more than likely.

“Right this way, hun,” she had a bounce in her step that reminded Michael of a fawn. Upon sitting down, Michael realized he had forgotten to ask about drinks. Gavin was on top of it though, and pointed at the menu that was plastered beneath a thick layer of plastic on the table.

“Is he alright?” she asked kindly, Gavin just nodded with a dopey grin.

“Yeah, he’s just got a sore throat. Figured I’d get him out of the house and cheer him up,” Michael smiled, watching Gavin hug himself in the jacket. The waitress smiled, but looked a bit sad in the eyes— _oh, great. She probably thinks that means we’re together._ It didn’t sting as much as it used to.

With their order in place, they were left with awkward glances and shy smiles. Michael didn’t exactly enjoy social silences, because his face often gave away exactly what he was thinking. If the harsh words weren’t flowing from his mouth, his face grew soft and his glances endearing. That seemed to be exactly what was happening, because Gavin’s cheeks were growing pink and he was pretending to be interested in the menu while glancing up through his lashes.

“What?” Michael finally said behind a laugh. Gavin just shook his head dismissively, a grin playing on his lips. Thankfully their food arrived before things could become even more embarrassing.

“Here you two go. I suggest putting honey on your waffle, hun. It’ll help your throat,” she smiled at Gavin, who returned the favor, “Let me know if you need anything else.” She bounced away like a fawn through wildflowers. Michael was a bit disappointed in himself for not being interested; it was hard to do when across the table from you was a boy with wheat colored hair giving you shy glances.

“Hey! No fair, they gave you extra bacon!” Michael teased but Gavin grinned, popping one of the strips in his mouth, pointing across the table at the chocolate chip pancake Michael had. There was an enormous mound of whipped cream on top of it as well as a sprinkle of extra chocolate chips. He shook his head, the tips of his ears growing warm.

It was a quiet breakfast/lunch, much to Michael’s disappointment, but somehow it was still enjoyable. Even without saying a word he was able to carry on a silent conversation with Gavin. Shy glances, shin kicks, and haphazard flicks of chocolate chips were enough to fuel a conversation well after they had paid the bill.

“You ready to go?” Michael said, feeling a bit sad, as if leaving the booth would mean bursting a bubble of quiet happiness that he could never regain. Gavin nodded, putting his hands to his face and inhaling deeply—the sleeves of Michael’s jacket went well past his wrists and he had them bunched up in his fists. Trying not to blush, Michael busied himself with tidying up the table and leaving a nice tip for the prancing fawn.

“That place is top,” Gavin said, and it was like music to Michael’s ears after such a long period of silence. He didn’t dare reclaim his jacket from the slim man, as it hugged him in all the right places…and it would be more likely to smell like him when he got it back. Not that he was anticipating it, or anything.

Much to Michael’s satisfaction, Gavin was chatty the whole ride home. He kept hugging the jacket to him as he spoke and breathing in its scent when he thought Michael wasn’t watching. The chill wind may have brought goosebumps to Michael’s flesh, but the warmth he got from being in the general vicinity of this odd man was enough to warm him through even the harshest of winters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've completely lost track of the time period for the story. Let's pretend it's Fall.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a history lesson!
> 
> It was brought to my attention that the ages definitely don't work right. I'm not good with number at all as it seems. Heh. So let's pretend it makes sense. 
> 
> Gab, Michael, and Dan are around 17-18. Their parents visited the US in their twenties. The war happened before then and evacuations happened soon after. I'll revise this soon.

“Hey Ray, we’re back. You missed out on some fuckin’ great waffles—Ray?” Michael hung his keys on the hook by the door and realized the apartment was empty, “Ray, you slick bastard.” He turned around to see Gavin still standing in the elevator, “Do I have to invite you in every time?”

Gavin looked a bit conflicted but stepped warily over the threshold.

“Looks like we have the place to ourselves for…probably the rest of the day,” Michael said, dropping himself onto the couch, “Which means we get the Xbox,” he grinned, switching the TV on. Gavin sat next to him, gradually re-entering his comfort zone now that he was away from the public eye. The pleasant ride home had made the transition even easier.

After selecting a game, the two of them became silent once again. For Michael, it was getting back in the groove of playing a co-op game. Gavin on the other hand, still felt a bit reclusive. Michael finally figured out the controls and noticed the discomfort, “So tell me about Little Oxfordshire,” he began, earning a puzzled look from his companion.

“What?”

“Little Oxfordshire. Tell me about it. Where’d it come from?” Michael asked casually, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Well, uh… we’re…British?” Gavin squeaked shyly.

“No shit. Tell me something new,” Michael chuckled.

“It’s an old…fallout shelter…” he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to focus on the game.

“Woah, really?” Michael turned his body to face Gavin, interest evident on his face.  

“Y-yeah, from the third World War,”

“So why a fallout shelter? And how’d you find it?”

Gavin laid his controller down on the coffee table, Michael following suit as he listened intently to the story that more than likely would have been told in his history class…had he paid any attention.

_Forty-five years ago, the Third World War broke out. Forty-six years ago Gavin’s parents pooled together their money with Dan’s parents and made a spur-of-the-moment trip to the United States. A year later, Gavin and Dan were introduced to the world._

_At first, the war didn’t really affect anyone except for those fighting in it. When even the United Nations began having disputes, that’s when the leaders of each major government devised a plan: evacuate everyone back to their mother’s country of origin._

_As one can imagine, that brought about many a problem as most people of the time were either not currently living in their original country or they were romantically involved with someone that wasn’t. The declaration meant splitting up families for the sake of peace, and with every country at war, it seemed to be the only way to acquire it._

_The separation of countries would also lead to the severing of communication between them—another of the government’s genius plans to prevent further conflict. If the fighting countries are unable to visit and communicate, what is there to fight about? Sounds fool-proof, right? Hardly. It took five years to evacuate everyone (or what they thought was everyone) and no one went without a fight._

_Civil wars broke out across the globe as brother fought brother that had abandoned the family to become Scottish, while sister slandered sister that had married the Australian. What was the government’s answer to unrest? “Well at the least our armed forces are focused on the internal problem instead of on foreign affairs”. Lesser developed countries that had depended on the aid of neighboring militaries struggled to maintain order within their borders, while larger countries with enormous militaries held their borders with ease, many trying to formulate a plan to overtake their former allies._

_There seemed to be no solution in sight as war was not ceased, but yet the order to refrain from outside contact was still in place. Then came_ another _brilliant plan on behalf of the government: ICE Breaker…or so they claim in the text books._

_Forty years ago the ICE Breaker test was created by an activist hoping to spread the idea of love as opposed to the current flood of hate. Desperate and wary of fighting, it was quick to catch on. Do a quick scan of your intermolecular workings and discover if you have a soul-mate somewhere in the world._

_The creator (whose name has since been erased) hoped that if people discovered they had a soul-mate waiting for them in a neighboring country, there would be a demand to reconnect with them. The war would end on the terms of love and belonging._

_Genius! It might just work! A year after it was created and implemented, people began comparing the designs on their knuckles and discovering they had someone across the borders waiting for them. Now the riots had a new purpose: let us back in!_

_The Third World War had technically dissolved through the closing of borders, but civil war still raged. Officials weren’t ready to re-open the borders until it was settled, so they took the ICE Breaker into their own hands._

_After throwing a hefty sum at the creator, the United States government seized the program and reworked it to their liking—no one knows it was remade, however. The results no longer matched a person up with someone in another country. They believed it would foster patriotism and reduce the curiosity to cross another country’s borders. With a bit of convincing, the program was distributed across the globe._

_At first, it was a disaster. Very few people were able to request a soul-mate match form and actually get a result. Now people were angry. Again. Why is it not working now? Why have I not found my soul-mate?_

_ICE Breaker, new and improved! The more people that are scanned, the more likely you are to find a match! So gather your friends, your family, and visit your nearest affiliated clinic to_ Break the Ice _!_

_That’s what the advertisements claimed, and they haven’t changed for nearly forty years. Seventy-five dollars isn’t a lot when it means finding the love of your life, right? Turns out people weren’t convinced and were content finding the love of their life via conventional means._

_Civil war raged on, and the ICE database was incredibly small in nearly every country. No one wanted to spend the money on a test that was optional when they could be funding activist groups to re-open the borders!_

_Bam! Mandatory! Now people would sign up. Either assimilate or be terminated…well, maybe not terminated, but the consequences weren’t exactly pleasant. Newborns were expected to be entered into the system before they went home with the parents. Failure to do so would mean Child Services would collect the child on accusations of neglect. Existing citizens were given discounts on popular brands for visiting a clinic to be tested._

_Attendance rates soared and so did the monetary gain off of the program. Within twenty years, every citizen of every country was in the system. During that time, civil war began to fizzle out—many claimed it to be a victory of the ICE breaker, others said it was just human nature to accept defeat after so long._

_But what happened to little Gavin and Dan? They weren’t excluded, but their parents were crafty. They eluded the evacuation requests for five years. On the fifth year, however, they weren’t fast enough and there weren’t enough people to hide behind. In the hustle and bustle of Austin, Texas, they were bound to be discovered. They were escorted out from work, while their loving children were left in a daycare elsewhere._

_The screams of a distraught mother and the fists of an angry father weren’t enough to convince the soldiers to let them stay. Their children would be evacuated when they were found. But they would never be found._

_They had been left in the care of a rogue facility dedicated to caring for the children of foreign parents who desperately tried to avoid evacuation. Dan and Gavin were five years old, unable to attend school as their accents were far too thick and their understanding of the world too thin to hide them._

_When the news of the capture reached the nanny, she took it upon herself to care for the children. Quickly they relocated to a fallout shelter on the outskirts of the rambunctious city. There, they were taught the ways of the world and over time, more and more refugees were moved in. By the time the children were teenagers, the number of people in the shelter was nearly one hundred._

_They learned to read, write, imitate, and hide their accents to the best of their abilities. They were exposed to numerous accents as hush-hush talk of a safe-haven travelled on the wind. Rumor has it, this sweet woman sparked a flame that fanned the globe, as people discovered fallout shelters in their own countries. Since the threats had been eliminated, the governments no longer maintained the facilities, and with the war over, they had no need to keep track of them._

_Even with years of exposure to accent therapy, Gavin and Dan still retained their British accents, and as more and more English refugees discovered the shelter, they began to develop their own language. With the mixture of ethnicities and accents, the language was like none other in the world. Blatantly English, though incredibly foreign._

_For years, they had gone undiscovered…until one clumsy lad found his desire for adventure and began to visit the active city of Austin…_

Michael listened intently to the whole story with bright eyes, often having to interrupt Gavin as he slipped into his own variation of English. He felt a pang in his heart to learn that neither Gavin nor Dan had seen their parents since they were five.

Looking down, he found his hand was lovingly situated on Gavin’s knee as he spoke. As he drew it away, a frown found both of their faces, and he slowly replaced it.

With a glance at the clock, Michael discovered they had been chatting for nearly two hours and the sun was beginning to leak its golden red colors into the room. That certainly didn’t stop Gavin, who seemed to be enjoying telling the stories of his life.

He went on to tell about the incidents, the almost-love stories, the pranks, everything that happened well underground. It was incredible to Michael, to think of how many lives had been going on like normal just below the surface. Completely unseen. People that looked like they belonged, but never said a word. He wondered how many people he had encountered were like Gavin.

They laughed as the sun went down and the elevator dinged, revealing a content looking Ray.

“Where the hell have you been?” Michael asked as he caught his breath after a bout of incredible laughter.

“Out,” Ray said with a smug grin.

“Could have left us a note or something,”

“Went out for drinks with Geoff and Jack,” Ray shrugged.

“You don’t drink,” Michael narrowed his eyes, carefully drawing his hand off of Gavin’s knee.

“Water is a drink,” he grinned, and noticed the movement, “You two had fun I hope?”

“Fuck off,” Michael said lowly, his immediate defensive mechanisms kicking in, “I mean, we did. You missed out on some great shit,” he said quickly, as Gavin’s face had dropped a bit.

With a dismissive laugh, Ray disappeared into his bedroom, a handheld console in tow.

Gavin and Michael laughed well into the night, going back and forth telling stories from their childhood, learning everything they could about one another. At the back of his mind, Michael found himself wanting to learn the contours of the lad’s body. Gavin wanted to count Michael’s freckles.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to upload this. Oops.
> 
> *****UPDATE: OCT 29 2014*******  
> I'm really sorry about the long hiatus once again--school and work are fun suckers. I will be updating over Thanksgiving break hopefully! I love you guys!

As Michael’s alarm when off, he rolled over onto a solid mass in his bed, “God dammit, Gavin…” he muttered, reaching over the sleeping lad to hit snooze, “you’re gonna have to stop doing this.”

It made him wonder if he ever slept alone back in Little Oxfordshire. Maybe he and Dan were cuddle-buddies. The thought made Michael’s stomach sour.

Gavin grunted himself awake, stretching his lanky limbs and promptly whopping Michael in the head while simultaneously kicking him in the shin. In retort, Michael flung the blankets over him and noisily made his exit from the bed, “Gooooood morning, Gavin!” he said dramatically with a noisy stretch and a prance to the window. There he flung open the curtains, letting in a blinding beam of morning light, directly onto the drowsy man’s face.

With a grunt and a string of unintelligible words, Gavin buried his face in Michael’s duvet.

“Up and at ’em Gav. If you’re gonna sleep in my bed you’ve got to get up at the ass crack of dawn with me!” That was a complete and utter lie; Michael had his alarm set for two hours before he actually had to be up.

When the lump in his bed refused to rise, he yanked the blankets from him and stood at the foot of his bed, much like his mother would have done. Squawking and flailing, Gavin was currently resembling that of a temperamental toddler.

“Keep it up and I’ll send you to daycare while the adults go to work!” He cringed almost as soon as the last word was said, “Shit shit shit,” he stuttered. Gavin had gone a bit rigid as he blinked up at the ceiling. _Now you’ve done it, Michael._

“I shouldn’t have fuckin’ said that,” he muttered, putting the blankets back on the bed as he sat down. From zero to fuck up in five minutes flat, that could be a new record, even for Michael Jones. As he stared at the floor, Gavin sat up. Michael thought for sure that was the last straw and that Gavin would be leaving for good this time. But instead, he wrapped his arms around Michael, hugging him in an ‘it’s okay’ kind of way and stood up, saying something happily and beginning to leave.

“W-what?” Michael called after him—he had slipped into his confusing language again, which Michael had so courteously named Gavinic.

Stopping in his tracks, Gavin turned with his head quirked, “I’ll make your tea?” he said, uncertain as to why Michael was confused.

“Coffee,” Michael chuckled, “and the alarm clock makes it for me,” he motioned to the night stand. That _really_ confused Gavin.

“Your…clock?”

“I’ll explain it later,”

“Right, I’ll get your coffee then!” Gavin trotted out the door, pleased with himself. Michael wasn’t sure what was going on anymore; first he fucks up, and now his coffee was being brought to him? This isn’t exactly how things normally worked.

When he returned, a mug of hot, liquid happiness in his hand, he sat back down next to Michael. As he took a sip, a smile stretched across his face, cracking through the sleepiness he still wore. It was a lot better than normal. Maybe Ray had bought a new brand of coffee? Or maybe just because everything tastes better when someone else gives it to you.

“So…are you okay?” Michael said, staring into his mug.

“Tippy top!” Gavin smiled, and Michael believed it.

“Even after my asshole remark?”

“Of course, Micool,” his smile was sweeter now; more intimate. Michael felt his cheeks growing warm. He focused intensely on his coffee.

After a period of silence, Gavin was the one to break it, “So what are we doing today?”

“Ray and I have work…will you be alright here by yourself? Geoff is out of town, so we’re just gonna be uploading some backed up videos,” Michael rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. They had offered Gavin a position and now he wasn’t even being invited back yet. “I mean, I could probably convince Geoff to let me take a day off or something…”

“I’ll be fine!” Gavin chirped. In all honesty though, Gavin was much less likely to get himself into trouble staying at the apartment.

“If you’re sure…”

“Micool, quit worrying. I’ve spent plenty of time on my own,” Gavin curtly nodded, stretching back upon the bed. Michael tried not to think of how many days and nights Gavin had spent alone—he had hoped Dan had always been there for him. He was silently thankful for the odd man.

Figuring it was useless to try to argue that he was wrong, Michael just nodded.

“Right, well, there’s pizza in the fridge. If you get lonely or some shit, give Lindsay a call,” he hoped she wasn’t angry at him for not seeing her more often. “We’ll pick up groceries after work,” he muttered, getting dressed. He was mainly reminding himself, since he was pretty sure Gavin wouldn’t want to live off of silent meals in busy restaurants.

Gavin just grunted in acknowledgement, as he was already beginning to doze off again. Quietly, Michael tucked the blanket around him, kindling the warm fuzzy feeling that seemed to be trying to kick start his heart.

As he left the bedroom, he was confronted by Ray, “What’s this about Gavin sleeping with you?” he grinned smugly, biting into a mysterious donut. Where’d he get a donut?

“Mind your own damn business, Ray,” Michael muttered, peering into the kitchen to see if a box of donuts awaited him. Sadly, the table was empty.

“My house, my business,” Ray held out a brown paper sack to Michael, where inside he would find his own breakfast.

“He keeps sneaking in in the middle of the night,” Michael shrugged, nibbling on his donut. Ray quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing.

The two of them enjoyed the ride to work, as Ray had been apparently doing some thinking and was planning on making a costume for Gavin: the Vav to his X-Ray.

“You can’t be serious!” Michael shrieked between bouts of laughter, “You’re already attached to him, too!”

“Too? So you do admit being attached!” Ray grinned victoriously.

“Fuck. I guess you caught me,” Michael was far too giggly to even try to refute the claim. It _was_ true, anyway, “But, _Vav_? What’s his superpower going to even be?” Ray shrugged. Apparently he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Or perhaps he didn’t plan to.


	33. Chapter 33

Two hours into work and Michael discovered he was already missing Gavin, “So when do you think Gavin can officially join the crew?” he asked casually, hoping no one would over-analyze it.

“Aww, Michael misses his boyfriend,” Ray declared from behind him. Michael ignored him forcefully. The others paid no mind to the comment.

“Next week maybe?” Geoff offered over the sudden explosion of Xbox triggers clacking repeatedly, “We can put it over there by yours—we’ll just have to be careful opening the door. Wouldn’t want to give him more brain damage.”

A grin found Michael’s face, as the open spot was right next to his own desk. He almost asked to be dismissed so he could scurry home and relay the good news—but they were in the middle of filming and Michael was in the lead.

So he waited. And waited. And waited some more. The work day seemed to crawl by exceptionally slow. When it was _finally_ an acceptable time to go home, he remembered the groceries and hung his head.

After an overfilled cart and a slight fiasco trying to summon a taxi service that could carry all of the bags, they were on their way home. The sun was setting and all Michael could think about was how bright Gavin’s smile would be when he shared the news. And that he had bought four boxes of his favorite cereal.

The elevator was barely large enough to stack the bags in, and Michael came to the realization that Ray was probably smart for not having bought groceries before.

With each second that crawled by, the anticipation grew. It grew to the point where Michael thought he would explode when the doors finally opened to their apartment.

“Gavin! Gavvy! Gav!” Michael called out, trotting into the kitchen with bags in hand, “Gav you prick, if you’re still sle—“

Michael dropped the bags to the floor, their contents scattering, breaking, and rolling across the kitchen floor. He stood there, frozen. Sitting at the kitchen table was someone he had never expected to see again.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ray snapped, coming into the room.

“Hello again, Michael,” Mr. Burns grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh.


	34. Chapter 34

For what felt like an eternity, Michael stood there, his mouth agape and his feet glued to the floor. Then came the rage. Like a vicious crack of thunder, Michael exploded.

“Where the fuck is he you prick?!” Michael boomed, crossing the distance between them in one furious stride, “What the fuck did you do to him?!” He wasn’t even sure the man was the guilty party, but that grin on his face lit his fuse and he was going to receive the full brunt of fury.

“He’s where he should be,” Mr. Burns said coolly, steepling his fingers like a movie villain, “In governmental custody.”

Michael felt his skin grow cold—governmental custody? That means…

“How the fuck did you find him?” Michael squeaked, struggling to find his voice.

“All thanks to you,”

“W-what?”

“That phone call you made to your dear mother helped us out quite a bit,” Mr. Burns said, slowly rising to his feet, “You see, we’ve had a close eye on you since you arrived. My most troubled students are always good at finding the things we lose.”

“Michael…what’s going on?” Ray asked quietly. Michael didn’t hear him over the rushing of blood in his ears, though.

“Where is he?” he balled his fists painfully.

“I already told you. He’s with us,”

“No. Where _exactly_ is he? And what are you doing to him?!” Michael was nearly nose to nose with Mr. Burns…or would be, had the height difference not been a factor.

“He’s still in Texas,” Mr. Burns drummed his fingers on his arms, not intimidated in the slightest by the furious teen.

Michael couldn’t take it any longer, he grabbed the larger man by the collar and shoved him backwards, pinning him to the wall, “I swear to fucking God if you don’t tell me where he is…and take me there, I will beat your face in so hard you’ll shit teeth for a week.”

There was a sharp pressure against Michael’s ribs, and upon glancing down he realized Mr. Burns had a handgun pressed to his shirt, “I’d suggest you back off before this gets ugly,” he threatened.

“It’s two in the afternoon and you’re in an apartment complex—you wouldn’t be stupid enough to fucking shoot me,” Michael hoped he was right, anyway.

“You’re right, but I can put you to sleep,” he looked mildly amused, then shot a tranquilizer dart into Ray’s leg to prove his point. Ray yelped in shock, and slowly stumbled across the room in a last attempt to avenge himself. He only made it halfway into the kitchen before he was on his knees. A few seconds later and he was hardly scooting himself across the linoleum before losing consciousness.

“You fucking fucker, I’ll kill you!” Michael lashed out, only to feel a sharp prick in his side. A dart stuck through his shirt, which he angrily removed. His head began to swim with the rush of anger and chemicals now coursing through his system.

“I should thank you, though,” Mr. Burns said, retrieving an envelope from his overcoat. “Here’s your compensation,” he grinned flinging it down next to Michael, who was beginning to lose his bearings. In one final attempt to take him down, he launched himself across the floor to grab the man’s ankles, only to find another dart stuck in his arm, causing it to quickly go numb.

“I don’t…” Michael’s vision blurred as he flailed about, hoping to catch a pant leg or anything, “I don’t want…your fucking…money…” he slurred, “I want…” his head drooped viciously, “I want my…boy…” his head hit the floor with a loud thump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help it. Burnie is a great villain.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooaaahh. Long hiatus. I'm terribly sorry! I'm hoping to provide a large update to make up for the lack of content!
> 
> These next few chapters are going to be incredibly...angsty. So I hope you got your parents' signature, because we're going on a feels trip.

When Michael awoke, his head was heavy and his mouth dry. Every muscle in his back screamed at him as he made the journey into the waking world.

That’s when the images flashed in his mind: still frames of the nightmare. The nightmare. That’s all it was. A terrible, terrible nightmare. Completely and 100% false. Not real. Gavin would be pressed against him, despite every fucking time he was scolded for it.

As he went to grumble at Gavin for pressing his bony knees into his back, he discovered he wasn’t in bed—he was instead met by hard sticky linoleum and a puddle of drool; but at least he had a fleece blanket thrown over him. As he took in his scenery, that’s when, as if on cue, his arm began to throb where the multiple tranquilizers had lodged themselves—and were still residing.

That’s when the terror washed over him, causing him to spring up from the floor—well, in theory, anyway. Stiff muscles didn’t allow for much spry movement, which caused him to fumble his way to the table where he pulled himself up, “Ray?!” he called out in desperation.

His friend was slumped rather inanimately in the recliner, which sent Michael’s heart into his throat—had something happened after he went unconscious? _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This is real. This is 100% real._

“Ray you fuck, wake up,” he rasped, hoping it hid the rabid panic burning in his skull: Gavin was really gone. Nausea gripped him as he rose to his feet. He tried not to wretch all over the kitchen table as the violent urge to scream, cry, and rip the apartment walls down washed over him.

Gavin was gone. Really, actually, gone. Kidnapped. Gone. Taken. Stolen.

“R-Ray…” he called, weakly.

“Mmmpphhh…” Ray muttered, his eyelids fluttering momentarily. It was enough to cause Michael to expel the breath he had been holding. Still off balance and woozy, Michael hobbled over to the couch and flung himself on it with a bit too much force—he wouldn’t be able to contain his anger if it kept building at this rate.

“Shit…” Ray rubbed his hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew, “Michael?” he glanced over the room with hazy eyes before settling on his roommate.

“Yep…it’s me,” Michael said, his voice muffled by his face down position against the couch.

“You…alright?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Ray crinkled his brow, “Of course I’m not fucking alright! Why would I be alright? Someone fucking stole my bo—best friend and tazed the fuck out of me!” His anger was seeping through the cushions like a forest fire, and he was thankful Ray wasn’t collected enough to hear the accusation in his voice…or the almost slipup…or the lack of mention of his well-being…

He turned over on his side and took in a large gulp of air, rubbing his face aggressively. _Calm down, Michael. Everything’s fine. It’s not fucking fine. But it is. It’s fine._

“Did you call the cops?” _Stupid fucking question._

“Oh…yeah…let me get right on that,” Ray pawed around for his phone but settled for a television remote, “ _Hello? 911? Yeah we’ve been harboring a fugitive—what? Yeah—some asshole showed up and tazed us. Could you send in a SWAT team and call the Navy?”_

“Fair play,” Michael groaned, closing his eyes against the impending headache, “I’m going back to bed. Tell Geoff I’m not coming in today.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Ray was fighting the urge to fall back asleep himself, probably already deciding getting up from the chair wasn’t happening.


	36. Chapter 36

Michael slept, but not without the constant reminder of what await him in the waking world.

Nightmares pounded at the confines of his skull, soaking his sheets and leaving him exhausted when he finally escaped. Fleeting images of Gavin trapped in a dark room surrounded by unfamiliar faces danced behind his eyelids anytime he dared close them.

The darkness of those imaginary rooms began to show themselves on his face—under his eyes, in his voice, in his room. After weeks of very little sleep, his mind began to play tricks on him, birthing themselves in the form of jagged sketches and shades portraits. His desk was soon littered with a hobby long since forgotten upon meeting the mystery boy by the incinerator.

Part of him was relieved to resurrect that part of him, the part of him he had brought to Austin; the other part of him wishes it had stayed dead.

Ray had begun to worry on just the second day of Michael’s refusal to show up to work, but was warded off by the infamous rage that came jam-packed in the short being that was his best friend. He kept his distance, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Three arranged dates later, and he couldn’t take it anymore. Michael was going to get back to normal if he had to beat it into him.  Covertly he nursed the idea in Geoff’s head that the Achievement Hunters were due for a new type of show and that Michael was the only one that could make it happen. It didn’t take long for Geoff to catch on, and the rest of the office chipped in to set up a work station for their newest channel: Rage Quit.

Though wary at first, Michael figured there was nothing to lose.

After two hours of screaming indefinitely at an indie side-scroller, he felt tremendously better. Sure, his throat hurt and his voice squeaked for a while, but that was the only thing. His head didn’t hurt; the imaginary hinges on the endless hall of doors in his mind didn’t squeak.

Even so, Michael still felt hollow. He often recorded his videos at night once everyone had left for the day, save for the select few people that could tolerate an hour or more of yelling and slamming of fists. Nothing could quell the aching in his heart for his partner in crime, the Nice to his Dynamite, the Froot to his loops, th—he was staring at his computer screen with tears making constellations of his freckles. The game he was playing had already forfeited him, as a ghoul stood above his character’s pixelated body.

Sighing, he saved his capture, hoping some parts would at least be salvageable for a weekly highlight—or maybe it would just go into the Vault of Lost Let’s Plays.

As he gathered his things to head home, he left the light on in the Achievement Hunter office—he couldn’t muster the strength to face the room in the darkness. It made him sick: the mighty Mogar had been slain by the oldest fear in the book: achluophobia.

That night, Michael lay in his bed, whispering phrases to his ceiling in every way he knew possible—he had never been the type to pray but it came more naturally to him than he expected. He painted the walls with his pleas, covered the ceiling with his concerns, and strung up lights of safe returns he hoped would be bright enough to guide Gavin home.


	37. Chapter 37

Months passed; the leaves fell from the trees; the fountains in the parks threatened to freeze. The weather reminisced Michael’s demeanor and offered sympathy in the only way it knew how: to continue on its merry way. At least it would be the one constant in his life—the one thing that wouldn’t fuck up.

His mind still wasn’t being forgiving—the coat Gavin last wore hung at the back of his closet. He would rather brave the harsh air of a winter storm than encase himself in the memories. Even as Lindsay tried to help, he could scarcely look at her. From the way she sat cross-legged on the couch to the way she breathed: it all reminded him of the too few months he had spent with Gavin.

But she was trying—dear God, was she trying. She tried to avoid all the sensitive subjects, and even tried getting him involved in hobbies he would never have picked up on his own. Michael was thankful, but no amount of crocheting could pull his pieces back together.

As his anger subsided into depression, fear struck him like a bolt of lightning to his heart. He wouldn’t allow himself to succumb to the final stage of loss: he would not accept that Gavin was gone. He would not. Could not. Gavin was coming home. To accept that he was gone was to accept that there was nothing that could be done to bring him home.

Gavin deserved more than that. Gavin deserved someone to fight for his existence, unlike so many before him. It was the denial of his existence that had thrown him into this situation in the first place.

And with that, Michael made a decision. After months of ignoring Little Oxfordshire, he was going to go back…and…make things right. Or make them worse. Either way, he was going to make sure they knew he hadn’t given up on them. On Gavin.

“Ray?” Michael said quietly, a trait he had developed as he lost his desire to discuss anything that wasn’t work related.

Ray quickly turned his attention to his housemate, a trait that _he_ had developed as Michael spiraled downwards, “Yeah?”

“I’m going back.”

“Back..? Not to Jersey, no, you can’t! Come on, it’s gonna get better…” Ray was halfway off the couch, his face ridden with worry.

“No, you idiot. To Little Oxfordshire. To…make things right…and shit…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Should probably think of something better to say than that, though…”

“Oh. Right,” Ray cleared his throat, resuming his serious face in his dent on the couch, “You’re probably right.”

Michael reached for Ray’s coat, “Dude, you really need to buy yourself a coat. What are we gonna do when we both go out?”

“Wear it at the same time, obviously.” Michael pulled it tight around him, yanking a beanie down over his ears. That’s when there was a knock at the apartment door.

The two of them exchanged glances with a mirrored shrug.

“Delivery!” Called an excited voice from behind the door.

‘Delivery?’ mouthed Michael, slowly making his way to the door. The knocking continued, much more frequent as the seconds passed.

“Hold on, damn. I’m coming,” Michael cracked the door open to peer outside, “We didn’t ord—“

Ray shrieked as Michael slung the door open with a loud BAM! Nothing could have prepared him for who stood in the doorway.

Nothing. 


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an odd way of breaking things up.

Michael choked on air, looking quite a lot like a fish out of water as he stared at the man standing in the entryway. Tears stung his eyes as he threw his arms around him, “G-Gavin…” he muttered into his shoulder.

He hugged him like he had meant to all those months ago. He hugged him so tight a high pitch squeak escaped his body, “Mi-Micool…can’t…you’re…” Gavin didn’t struggle though. He just nuzzled into Michael’s hair.

That’s when something even more unexpected happened—Michael released his grip and kissed him. He kissed him as if it were the only thing keeping him alive—and in some ways, it was. Gavin awkwardly returned the gesture, his hands shaking as they traversed their way around Michael’s back.

As they broke apart, Michael just clamped him tightly to his chest, trying to keep his own from heaving and shattering into a thousand pieces.

“G-Gavin…” he sputtered, just holding him as a few tears escaped his control.

“Hiya Micool,” Gavin tried to maintain a cheery disposition, though his usual inflections cracked around the lump in his throat.

“Woah, we definitely didn’t order this. Where’s the return address?” Ray piped up from behind them.

The two of them giggled and Michael finally released him…sort of. He held his face in his hands, looking over him for any signs of abuse—anything to give him a good reason to go beat the ever-living crap out of his old chemistry teacher.

“Micool…Micool I’m fine,” Gavin placed his hands over Michael’s—and that’s what set his blood ablaze. On his knuckles were the unmistakable marks of what harm had been done to his boy. Michael nearly cried out in pain as he took Gavin’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers appropriately.

“Th-they don’t match,” his voice shook as he took the other hand and tried them as well, “they don’t fucking match,” he whispered, blinking away tears.

“Oh,” Gavin said with a shrug, “Oh well!” he gave his hands a gentle squeeze.

“No…you don’t…you don’t understand,” Michael said, his voice still above a whisper. He should have known better: he hadn’t received a notice for a match, “It means we aren’t…soul mates,” he still felt cheesy saying it, and even more so by how much it troubled him.

“Pffft, what do they know?” Gavin scoffed, holding their hands between them and kissing him.

Michael smiled, warmth enveloping him with an extraordinary amount of power, "I don't think that's the intended way to Break the ICE..." he nuzzled him happily, welcoming him back into the apartment.

"No, really. Send it back," Ray jested, earning a pillow in the face.

"Shut the fuck up, Ray," Michael laughed, sitting closer to Gavin than he would have ever dared before. 

After cutting up a bit, the true issue finally arose, "So...what the fuck happened..?" Michael finally asked, staring at his fingers wrapped protectively around Gavin's. 

"A whole fucking lot," Gavin said uncomfortably. 

After bracing himself for the wave of anger that would threaten his barriers, Michael piped up, "Alright...tell me...everything you can..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's still quite a bit planned for this fic. So thank you all so much for sticking around this long! It means the world to me. ♥


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